


The common thread that lies between you and me

by angylinni



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Infidelity, Intrigue, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angylinni/pseuds/angylinni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen has only loved one man in her life, but she's married to another. They can't stay apart and they can't be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burn me alive inside

His hands ghosted over her shoulders, taking the straps of the camisole she wore with them as they slid slowly down her arms.  She could feel his hot breath against her neck and it made goosebumps rise, her nipples tightening into hard little nubs.  “You’re so amazingly beautiful,” he whispered against her skin.

She shivered, turning her head, her breath escaping on a soft sigh.  His hand cupped her jaw, thumb rubbing lightly over the sensitive skin.  Their mouths met in a hot, wet kiss that left her breathless with need.  She felt his hips rock against her, the hard length of his cock pressing tightly against the cleft of her ass, left nearly bare by the dark green lace of the thong she wore.  The soft lace rubbed against her clit with every shift of his hips, heat seeping along her veins, licking fire in its wake.

“Need you,” she gasped, breaking free of the scorching kiss, lifting her hand above her head and winding it into the thick, blonde curls at his nape.  “So much.”

His hand splayed against her hip, holding her firmly against his body, thumb teasing at the elastic of her thong.  “Not yet,” he whispered against her neck, biting lightly at her leaping pulsepoint.  “Want to tease you some more.”

“Please.”   The word was ragged and soft and filled with every ounce of desire that filled her at his touch.  She felt him grin against her skin and it made her angry, her nails digging into his forearm.  He bit down harder and she moaned, his fingers dipping into the soft lace to press lightly against the soft brush of curls that shielded her pussy.  His long fingers dipped into her, running along the seam, spreading the slippery liquid that seeped in a steady flow.  Without warning, he plunged two fingers into her slick entrance, thumb grazing against the tiny bud of her clit, leaving her shuddering and breathless.  Curling his fingers, he fucked her slowly, rocking his hips into her with every stroke.

It was too much and not enough, every stroke of his fingers ratcheting up the tight coil of tension in her core.  His free hand found her breast, pulling and twisting the tight nub of her nipple until she was writhing and gasping against him, bucking her hips back into his, mewling helplessly as a heady miasma of pleasure and need consumed her.  Flinging her head back, she came hot and hard, clenching around his fingers, nails digging into his forearm.

Aftershocks of bliss coursed through her as she hung, limp and spent -  her knees weak and refusing to hold her weight.  He pivoted, pushing her hungrily to the bed, stripping off the soaked bit of lace that hid her from his eyes.  She stared up at him languidly, her tongue sliding along dry lips as he stripped out of the only remaining barrier, kicking the tight boxer briefs aside before joining her on the bed.  Palming her thigh, he lifted it high and entered her with a deep, heavy thrust, jerking her back up the bed with the force of it.

He pushed hard and fast, pulling out almost to the point of exit and then thrusting hard back in, each stroke dragging the head of his cock against her clit.  She keened long and low, nails digging into whatever she could reach – his broad shoulders, skimming across the flat nipples, standing at attention between the thick curls of coarse hair on his chest, the solid thickness of his wrist.  Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she bowed upwards, meeting him stroke for satisfying stroke.

“Say my name,” he grunted, lifting her ass and holding her up off the bed so that only her shoulders rested on the mattress.

A wicked grin curved her lips and she licked her lips again.  “Peeta,” she purred, rolling her hips against him.

He groaned and dipped his head, pulling one tight nipple into the dense heat of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue before biting down on it and tugging.  Her head dropped back, mouth opening soundlessly as pleasure screamed through her with every sensual tug and pull on her body.

Licking his way across her chest, he gave the other the same treatment, wincing as her nails dug into his shoulders, digging furrows down his back.  “Who do you belong to?” he growled against her skin, licking a heated trail down her stomach, reaching between them to flick his long fingers against her clit as he pounded into her, deeper and harder with each snap and roll of his hips.

“You,” she gasped, bliss spiraling through her.  Color burst behind her closed eyelids, every nerve ending screaming as the all consuming wave crested and broke, dragging her under its seductive pull.  “Always you!”

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, hips rising and falling against hers in an endless roll that dragged her deeper into the depths.  She came again as he collapsed against her, his back heaving as he fought for breath, forehead pressed tightly to her chest.

Her phone buzzed once and then began playing an overly cheery tone.  His head shot up, meeting her wide eyed gaze and he cursed long and low as she struggled to extricate herself from his embrace.  He collapsed back onto the bed as she snatched up the phone and answered it, angling her body so that her face was hidden.

“Hello?”

His stomach clenched and he cursed lowly.  She spun around, wide eyes pleading as she spoke softly into the phone.  “No, it was just the TV, some cop show.  Yes, I’ll pick up the dry-cleaning once I’m done at the store.  Okay, no it’s fine, really.  Bye.”  She pressed end and closed her eyes, sitting down heavily in the chair that anchored the corner of the room.  “Shit,” she breathed, burying her face in her hands.

“I hate this,” he said tightly, leaning up on his elbows to stare at her.

She lifted her head slowly, her expression bleak.  “No more than I do.”

Peeta pushed himself up to a sitting position, staring at her intently.  “It fucking kills me that he touches you.”

Katniss inhaled sharply, her hands clenching on the arms of the chair.  “No one touches me the way you do,” she said softly.

He jerked up off the bed, stalking around the room, gathering his clothing.  Sticking his legs into his boxers, he jerked them up and over his hips.  “You belong to _him_ ,” he snarled.

She rose from the chair, covering the distance between them with three steps, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist as she pressed her face to his chest.  “I belong to you!”  She breathed against his skin.  Tilting her face up, she cupped his chin, tugging on it so he looked at her once more.  “ _You_  own me body and soul, Peeta.  You always have,” she implored.

“But it’s his name you carry,” he snapped, pulling free from her embrace, leaving her standing there feeling naked and exposed, her heart clenching.  He wrenched on his shirt, sloppily fastening the buttons before thrusting his feet into his pants, pulling them up and fastening them.  His eyes met hers once more and she wanted to die at the pain reflected in them.  “And it slays me.”

Katniss bent down, reaching for her shirt, or anything to cover her nakedness.  Pain ripped through her and she blinked rapidly, fighting against the tears that threatened to fall.  Finally, her questing fingers found the silken material of her shirt and she dragged it closer, slipping it on quickly.  Rising to her feet, she walked woodenly to where her skirt was tossed over the dresser, stepping into it and forcing her numb fingers to work the catch to keep it from sliding back down her hips.

Strong fingers closed over hers and she gasped, raising her head to meet Peeta’s gaze.  She took a ragged breath.  “Do you…” her voice sounded thick, like she’d been sick for a week and was just barely regaining it.  “Do you want to stop?”  Desperation crept into her tone and she bit her lip, hands shaking beneath his.

“No.”  The word was soft and hard, exquisitely sharp and filled with weariness and pain and it compressed her heart tightly in its rough fist and squeezed until she thought she’d die.  His hand rose, ghosting over the soft swell of her cheek.  “I need you like I need air, Katniss.”  His voice, wild and low had her body tightening with the overpowering need from earlier.  Relief and desire warred equally within her and as he crushed her to his chest, she let the tears she’d been holding back fall freely, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

Her phone beeped again, making her jump.  She pushed free and grabbed for it, knocking it off the table and onto the floor.  Dropping to her knees, she scrabbled against the carpet, eyes closing in relief as she saw it was just the alarm and not another call.  Standing up, she tucked her shirt into the band of her skirt, lifting her gaze to find him staring at her, the tiny green scrap of her lacy thong in his fist.  Her stomach roiled as he balled it up and stuck it in his pocket.  He turned away and bent down for his shoes, taking them to the edge of the bed and sitting down on it to put them on.  His long, nimble fingers made short work of the laces and she watched greedily, remembering the feel of them on her body.

“Stop looking at me like that or I’ll never let you leave,” he rasped, double knotting the lace.

“How do you know I’m looking at you?”

“I can feel your eyes on me and it makes me want to throw you back on this bed and fuck you so that you’ll never leave me again.”

Damp heat gathered between her naked thighs and she spun around, searching for her shoes.  “You don’t have to fuck me to make me feel that way,” she said softly, slipping her feet into the tall heels that _he_ insisted she wear, the man whose money bought her body and had kept her sister from starving.  “I never want to leave you,” she continued, her voice thready.  “I wish you understood that.”

He was behind her instantly, hard angles against the softer curves of her body, one hand splayed across her stomach, the other turning her chin to look at him.  “I do understand it,” he said lowly.  “I just don’t fucking like it.”  His eyes locked with hers.  " _Leave him_."

She inhaled a ragged breath.  “You know I can’t.”

“You can.  We can leave; go somewhere he’d never find us.  Prim could come too-”

Her fingers pressed against his lips, cutting off his words. “Stop.  You know we can’t.”

He pressed his forehead against hers.  “Stay.”

She kissed him, pouring every ounce of love she felt for him into it.  Melting into his embrace, she let herself for one moment hold onto the dream that lived in her heart, that they could be together and free.   Breaking away, she bit her lip and forced herself to move out of his arms, gathering her phone and her purse before walking to the door.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered before pulling it open and stepping outside.  As it closed behind her, she stoically plastered on the bland mask she’d perfected as Katherine Crane, the wife of Senator Seneca Crane, walking to her Jaguar XKR and sliding behind the wheel, leaving Katniss Everdeen and her heart behind her in the hotel room with the only man she’d ever loved.


	2. Taking chances

Spring 2002

“Hey beautiful girl, got a smile for me today?”

Katniss looked up and smiled into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.  Peeta Mellark leaned casually against the counter of her checkout stall at Denizen’s Hardware, managing to look both angelic and up to no good at the same time.  Her heart fluttered in her chest as he raked a glance over her, lingering on the soft swell of her breasts beneath the hideously ugly orange shirt she was forced to wear.

“There we go, I knew you had one hidden just for me,” he said, winking at her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, darting a glance around the nearly empty store.  Old Man Abernathy was in the back, wandering into the power tool section.  Lord knows what he wanted one of those for, Gale and the other Hawthorne boys did practically everything on that sprawling ranch he owned.

“It’s a public place, honey,” he said, leaning down to rest his elbows on the counter, staring up at her with those eyes that she wanted to drown in they were so blue.  His voice was soft and filled with so much innuendo that she could feel her panties getting damp with every passing second.

“You know how people talk,” she said, nervously twisting her pen between her fingers.

Peeta shrugged.  “People are gonna talk no matter if I’m standing at your register or not, Katniss.  I meant what I said last night, I want you to be mine and I mean to make it happen.”

His words, so bluntly spoken, made her body clench with need, despite the trouble she knew it’d bring.  Peeta Mellark was the son of Brantford Mellark, who owned half the town.  The only other person as powerful was his cousin, Markham Crane, who owned the other half.  People like her, from the Seam at the edge of town didn’t mix with the likes of the Mellarks and Crane’s, it just wasn’t done.  No matter how much she might want it to be different, that’s the way it was.  “Stop talking crazy,” she hissed.  “You know we can’t be together.”  Unable to look at him any longer, lest he see the want stamped plainly across her face, she dropped her gaze to the counter.

He leaned closer, tipping her chin up with one long finger so that she was staring directly into the blue eyes that would be her downfall.  “Sweetheart, do you really think I give a damn what anyone says?”

His brow arched and she shook her head minutely, her stomach roiling with tension as he moved even closer so that she could feel the soft exhalation of his breath puffing across her lips.  “I think you want me just as badly, don’t you Katniss?”

Her hands clenched tightly around the lip of the counter as her knees threatened to buckle.  Want, lust and need collided within her, leaving her gasping in the sensual maelstrom of emotion that he roused. His lips brushed hers.  “Answer me, beautiful girl.”

“Yes.”  The word escaped on a ragged exhale as she quivered, her thighs clenching tightly together, damp liquid heat gathering in her core.

“Boy, you gonna buy something or were you here to just fuck her on the counter?”

Katniss leapt backwards, nearly falling over the small stool that Mr. Denizen let her keep behind the counter. Her cheeks flushed a violent crimson as Peeta stood slowly; unfolding his tall, solid frame from the comfortable position he’d been in against the counter. “Jealous, Mr. Abernathy?” he drawled leisurely, staring the older man down.

Abernathy snorted and rolled his eyes.  “Like I give two shits about who you want to stick your dick into, Mellark.  Just get the hell out of my way so I don’t have to stand here and watch you try to do it.”

Katniss blinked in mortification and her fingers shook as she reached for the power saw Mr. Abernathy had dumped on the counter.  Her face burned and she knew without a doubt that this little exchange would be all over town before she made it home tonight.  Her father was going to string her up by her thumbs.  _Please, please let a hole open up at my feet._

“For the record,” Peeta said, leaning his hip back against the counter.  “I don’t particularly like how you’re talking about my girlfriend.  I think you owe her an apology.”

Katniss gasped, her head whipping to the side as her mouth fell open in shock.  “Peeta!” she hissed as Abernathy began to laugh, doubling over and nearly falling on his ass.

“Here now, what’s going on?”  Ralph Denizen hurried over to where they stood, Peeta glaring down at the still chortling older man.  Katniss stared at them both in horror.

Denizen stopped before Peeta and glanced quickly between the three of them.  “Katniss, I demand you tell me what is happening!”

Her mouth opened and closed several times, nothing more than a squeak escaping.  Peeta turned to wink at her before standing up fully, turning to face the shorter man.  “Mr. Denizen, it wasn’t Miss Everdeen’s fault.  I came in to buy this power saw and Mr. Abernathy here thought he’d try to make a joke, only he forgot that not everyone understands his particular sense of humor. Who knows why he did it, perhaps all that alcohol has pickled his brain.  Anyway, I told him he should apologize for scandalizing your young employee like that and then he started seizing.  I recommend you call the ambulance, no telling if he’s going to survive it.”

Denizen stared in open mouthed astonishment.  Abernathy finally managed to contain his laughter and stood up, shaking his head while giving them both death glares.  “Boy, you’ve got some nerve.”

Peeta turned to stare at him, lifting his brow.  “Perhaps you should sit down, _old man_.  Between the drink and the seizure, I’m certain Mr. Denizen here wouldn’t be too happy if you bought it in his store.”

Denizen looked so lost, staring between the three of them that Katniss almost felt sorry for him, but the lingering shame from Abernathy’s comment and Peeta’s stunning announcement had left her barely able to breathe, let alone feel anything close to pity.

Peeta reached lazily into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing Katniss a credit card.  She stared at him in mute shock before he reached out and lifted her hand, gently putting the card into it and folding her fingers around it.  “Charge it,” he said, eyes never leaving hers.  He squeezed her fingers lightly and it broke the spell she’d been in, her gaze dropping back down to the power saw on her counter. 

Reaching for the scanning wand, she rang up the saw, her eyes widening as the price flashed across her screen.  “Th…” her voice broke and she inhaled sharply, biting her lip so hard she could feel the indentations forming.  “Three hundred ninety-six dollars and forty nine cents is going to go on your card, Mr. Mellark.”  She ran the card through the slot, her fingers still shaking as she handed it back to him.  Oh dear god, she’d just charged more than she’d made the entire time she’d worked here on that card and he didn’t even blink an eye when she’d told him the total.  Tearing off the receipt, she scrambled madly across the counter for her pen, finally closing her fingers around it and handing both the receipt and the pen to Peeta.  He took it and signed his name with a flourish.  “Mr. Denizen, I suggest you find someone to get Mr. Abernathy home,” he said as he was still bent over.  “I know my father wouldn’t like to hear of anything happening to him.”  Peeta rose slowly, staring at the rotund shop owner before turning back to hand the receipt and the pen to Katniss.  “Thanks sweetheart, I’ll pick you up out front when your shift is over.”

Her cheeks couldn’t possibly get any redder, but she felt the hot, prickly stab of it blooming across her chest and up her neck as Old Man Abernathy snorted something rude under his breath. He walked unsteadily out of the store, Mr. Denizen following after him, asking him if he really needed an ambulance.  Peeta watched them go, laughing silently.  He leaned against her counter once more and glanced over at her.  “I meant it, Katniss, I’ll be outside at five, so don’t think this is over.”

Her stricken gaze darted to his face and she stared at him wordlessly as he reached out and slid his knuckles over her cheek.  “You should blush more often sweetheart, it looks beautiful on you.”  Pushing up off the counter, he tucked the power saw underneath his arm and ambled out of the small store, the bell tinkling happily as he pulled open the door and stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine.

~*~

The remaining forty-five minutes of her shift dragged interminably.  She couldn’t sit still. She fidgeted with the assorted cups on her counter, each filled with last minute impulse purchases – scrapers, lumber pencils, nail drivers and a miniature screwdriver that had both a Phillips head and a regular head.  There were fifty-six assorted items in varied colors, shapes and sizes.  She’d sorted each of the items into the five containers at least nine times, trying to keep her mind from wandering to Peeta and what he’d said to Old Man Abernathy.

It was an impossible task.

_I don’t particularly like how you’re talking about my girlfriend.  I think you owe her an apology._

Her mind replayed the words over and over, cheeks flushing hotly each and every time she thought about the implications behind that word – girlfriend.  Girlfriends were kissed and taken out to dances and movies, neither of which she’d ever done with anyone, let alone Peeta Mellark!

Finally, the clock ticked over to five and she began shutting down her register, walking to the door to flip the sign on the door over to closed.  She glanced out the door and nearly swallowed her tongue.  Peeta was parked in the spot right in front of the store in a cherry red convertible that gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine.  He saw her and winked.  Katniss made a squeaking noise and flipped the sign closed, running back over to her register to count it out.  Her fingers shook as she counted the change and it took her five tries to get the pennies counted correctly.  Taking a deep breath, she finished up the rest of the count, writing the figures down neatly on the paper that Mrs. Denizen used for the accounting.  Taking the paper and her drawer over to the office, she knocked lightly on the closed door, glancing over at the front door every second or so, her stomach tied in knots.  When the office door finally opened, she nearly tossed her drawer at Mrs. Denizen, laughing nervously when the other woman looked at her askance.

“Sorry, I have a paper due tomorrow,” Katniss said by way of explanation, spinning on her heel and nearly running over to the front.  She undid the lock and stepped outside, her gaze colliding with Peeta’s as he unfolded his big frame from the small, low slung sports car.  She barely remembered to turn and flick the lock before letting the door shut as he stopped in front of her, his smile rivaling the sun.

“Hey beautiful girl,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she breathed, leaning back against the door of the shop.

“Gonna let me take you home?”

Katniss bit her lip.  “I shouldn’t, after what happened this afternoon.”

Peeta reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.  “But you’re going to, aren’t you, Katniss?”  He didn’t wait for her to respond, instead leading her over to the car, bending down to open the door for her.  She stepped into the car, the buttery soft leather cradling her ass as she sank back into the seat.

Peeta shut her door and walked around the front of the car, getting into the driver’s seat.  He turned to face her, an amused grin on his face.  He reached across her and she jumped, her cheeks flushing as he grabbed the seat belt and pulled it across her lap.  “Safety first,” he said, winking at her.

She laughed nervously and he buckled his own belt before putting the car into gear, backing out of the spot.  The windows were up, but the top was down and she smiled as the wind lifted the strands of hair that had escaped her braid away from her face.

“You look beautiful in my car,” he said, drawing her attention once more.  She flushed again and dropped her gaze to her lap.  She’d never been with a boy like him before, or any boy other than Gale and he didn’t count, being as he was as close as a brother.  Conversation was never her strong suit anyway, but any thoughts she had disappeared before they could even escape her mouth.

“Your car is very beautiful,” she said finally as he drove on the road that led towards the outskirts of town and the Seam.  It was likely the most beautiful car she’d ever seen, with gleaming chrome and buttery soft cream leather.  The engine purred with a throaty growl as he opened it up, speeding down the road.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching over to clasp her hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand.

“I should get home,” she said softly, not wanting to move because the way his thumb felt was amazing.

He laughed.  “You don’t want to go home, Katniss.”

She darted her gaze to his face, found him watching her with an intensity that made her insides clench with need.  He was right, she didn’t want to go home, but doing anything else was dangerous.  He was dangerous.  The feelings that he aroused in her were treacherous and could only lead to heartbreak – hers.  Boys like Peeta Mellark did one thing with girls from the Seam, it was something she’d known nearly her entire life.  “What do you want from me?”

“Where did that come from?”  He spoke loudly, over the wind rushing into the car and she sighed, turning to look out the window at the passing scenery.  With a low curse, he pulled the car over to the side of the road.  The sudden silence was deafening.  “Katniss.”

She bit her lip, overcome with emotion.  His finger landed on her jaw, drawing her face slowly around to face him.  “I don’t want anything you aren’t willing to give.”

She inhaled raggedly.  “I…”  Another deep, ragged breath.  “You’re…”  She gestured wildly.  “I’m not that kind of girl, I’m not like you.”  The last came out harshly, the words strung together like sticky candy, tumbling from her lips.

He laughed.  Her eyes widened and her lip trembled as he laughed so hard tears formed in his eyes.  Stung, she reached blindly for the handle, tears filling her eyes.  Long fingers curled over hers, stilling her movement.  “Katniss, I wasn’t laughing _at_ you.”

“You were,” she snapped, blinking furiously to try to stem the tears.

“I wasn’t,” he said lowly, nose brushing against the curve of her jaw, breath skating along her skin.  “I want you,” he whispered, teeth and lips dragging against the soft skin.  “That’s the truth.”  He pulled back so he could look at her, holding her gaze steadily.  “But I don’t want to just fuck you.”  She flinched at the harsh word and he sighed, cupping her cheek in his big palm.  “You’re different than any other girl I know.  You’re smart and funny and everything the other girls aren’t and that _fascinates_ me.  I want to know you, the real you that you keep from everyone and maybe, just maybe, you’ll see the real me behind the façade this town has constructed.”

Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, wanting to trust him but knowing that doing so could break her heart.

His thumb brushed gently over her lips.  “Will you trust me?”

She searched his face, trying to discern if he was lying but the only thing that blazed from those bluer than blue eyes was honesty.  Her tongue darted out, licking across dry lips.   A line from her favorite book floated through her head.  _The heart takes chances the head is afraid to._   Taking a deep breath, she let herself fly. “Yes.”

~*~

 “Gonna tell me what’s going on, Catnip?”

Katniss turned her head to give Gale a slow, measured look.  She lifted her brow, staring at him silently.

Gale laughed, rolling his eyes.  “Give it up, sweets.  It’s me and I know you far better than you think I do.  What’s with you and Mellark?”

“Nothing.”  Katniss turned back to her notebook, pulling her science text book closer as she went back to ignoring her best friend.

Gale reached out and flicked the tip of her braid.  “Stop trying to ignore me, you know it won’t work.”

She remained silent, flipping her hair back over her shoulder.  He scooted closer, pulling her pencil out of her slack fingers.  She turned and glared but went right back to her book.  Gale rolled his eyes.  “Fine, I’ll go ask him.”

“You move your ass out of that chair and even think about talking to him and you’d best not ever turn your back on me again.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair, tipping it up onto its back two legs.  “I knew that’d get you.”

Katniss sighed and reached over, pulling her pencil out of his hand and tucking it into her bag.  “Not here,” she said, darting a glance around the crowded lunchroom - too many ears and eyes watching in here.  She could feel them on her even as they spoke, hidden behind furtive glances. 

He nodded, dropping the chair back down and standing up, waiting as she tucked her books into her backpack.  Together they walked out of the lunchroom and towards the big cluster of rocks at the back of the schoolyard.  He settled on the highest one, watching as she sat down on the lowest, leaning back against the sun warmed face.  “It’s not what you think,” she said softly.

“I think that he’s been watching you for the last four years, Katniss and now you’re suddenly watching back.  Old Man Abernathy told me what he said, calling you his girlfriend.”

“He’s not like you thought,” she said, picking at a stray thread on her shirt hem.

“He’s not like us, Catnip.  You know those Merchie boys only want one thing-”

She spun around, pinning him with a fierce glare.  “Not him,” she hissed, cutting him off. 

Gale narrowed his eyes at her.  “And how would you know that?”   He climbed down from his perch until he was standing right in front of her.  Bending his knees, he moved so that he could look her in the eyes.  “How Katniss?”

She flushed and dropped her gaze, looking over his shoulder.  “Because he had the chance and didn’t take it.”

His shoulders slumped and he rose from the uncomfortable crouch he’d been in.  “You…”

She sighed.  “I’m human, Gale.  He’s a good looking boy and maybe I’m tired of being the outcast that nobody wants.”

“So you threw yourself at him, you became his whore?”

Katniss rose in one fluid motion, her hand connecting with his cheek in a crack that could probably have been heard in the lunchroom.  Gale stumbled backwards, his hand cupping his throbbing cheek.  “Of all people to say that to me, I never thought it’d be you.”  She grabbed her bag and stalked off towards the school.


	3. Wicked games we play

“Peeta, you have a visitor.”

Peeta looked up from his desk as his secretary poked her head in.  He glanced down at his calendar to make sure he hadn’t forgotten an appointment before looking back up, seeing the blonde woman grimace.  “Sorry, he just dropped by.”

The door she was holding open was pushed fully open and Seneca Crane strode into the office, waving his hand dismissively towards her.  “Of course Peeta will see me, we’re cousins after all.”

“It’s okay, Delly.”  Peeta carefully gathered the papers he was working on and stuffed them into a folder and into the drawer of his desk before standing up and walking over to where Seneca stood, looking out the large window that overlooked one of the parks in the Capitol.  “What do you want?”

Seneca turned, giving him a wide, false smile.  “What?  I can’t drop in on my cousin?”

Peeta sighed.  “Cut the fake civility, Seneca.  You’ve never just,” he made air quotes, “dropped in on me, so I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

Seneca’s oily smile widened.  “An alliance, of course.”

Peeta pinched the bridge of his nose.  Hell would freeze solid and pigs would fly out of his ass before that happened.  “An alliance for?”

Seneca sat down, pulling up the legs of his perfectly creased pants before crossing one leg over top the other, balancing his foot on his knee.  “The vote on the district appropriations.  There are some fat contracts that are coming down the pipe and together we can make sure that most of them go to District 12.”

Peeta stared at him, fighting to keep the incredulousness that he felt at Seneca’s suggestion from showing on his face.  Sitting down in the chair opposite him, he leaned back and stared.

Seneca held his gaze for a few moments before beginning to fidget; the smooth veneer of his politician’s face beginning to crack the longer Peeta stared at him.  “Say something, damn you.”

“Do you honestly believe that you have enough clout to bring those projects to twelve?”

Seneca gazed down at his hand, admiring his perfectly buffed and trimmed nails before answering.  “Of course, the Crane name speaks volumes.”

Peeta snorted.  “How much of Uncle Markham’s money did you spread around, Seneca?”  He stood up and walked over to the desk, leaning a hip against one corner.  “Better be careful, from what I hear that’s not a bottomless well.”

Seneca glared at him, an angry flush riding high on his cheeks.  “I wouldn’t be so smug, Mellark.  From what I hear, unless you get yourself a wife, you won’t be dipping into daddy’s coffers anymore either.”  He gave him another oily smile. “Still waiting for the day that Katherine divorces me?”

Peeta’s hands clenched the edge of the desk and he took a deep breath to keep from throttling the life out of the other man.  “Her name is Katniss and why the hell she married the likes of you is still a mystery.”

Seneca stood up, straightening his perfectly tailored shirt sleeves.  “Her name is whatever the hell I tell her it’s going to be and she married me because she knew you’d never make an honest woman out of her, right mama’s boy?”

“Get out of my office,” Peeta said through clenched teeth. “Before I forget that we’re family and wipe the floor with your face.”

Seneca strode to the door, giving Peeta one last glance over his shoulder.  “The votes will swing my way, cousin.  It’s up to you whether or not you’ll be on board or not.”

Peeta rose from his slouch and Seneca paled, rushing out of the door.  When it closed behind him, Peeta slumped back down, scrubbing his face with his hand.  Every single time he saw that fucker, he wanted to throttle him.  It wasn’t rational or even productive, but knowing that he was the one that was married to the only woman he’d ever loved made him insane.  Cursing under his breath, he rose and walked back around to sit down behind his desk, reaching for the phone.

“I need to talk to you, are you free for lunch?”

Satisfied with the answer, he hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and thinking.

~*~

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gale said sullenly as Peeta slid into the booth opposite him at an out of the way diner three towns over.

Peeta gave him a tight smile.  “I’m not exceptionally pleased to see you either.”

Gale sighed, raking a hand through his hair.  “It’s about Katniss, isn’t it?  You have to let her go, she’s married to Crane for fuck’s sake.”

Peeta glared across the table, holding his tongue until the waitress disappeared again after leaving menus.  “There is no way in hell she did that willingly, so don’t try and pull that shit with me.  There’s the story you both gave me and then there’s the fucking truth and eventually it’ll come out.”

Gale leaned closer.  “If it does, you’ll destroy her,” he said softly.

“Why?” Peeta said in an explosive hiss.  “Why do you both have to keep me in the fucking dark?”

“Move on, that’s the best thing you could ever do for her,” Gale said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.

Peeta sighed, clenching his fists tightly and then releasing them.  “Hell will freeze over first,” he muttered.  He curled his fingers around the water glass, bringing to his lips.  “I need you to do some digging for me.”

“I don’t work for you,” Gale said.

“Private dicks work for whoever pays them, correct?” Peeta replied, setting down his water glass and staring steely eyed across the table.

“They do,” Gale grunted, glaring back at him.

“Fine, Seneca’s got some backdoor deal going on and I want to know everything I can about it before the vote comes up in two weeks.”

“Is he doing something illegal?”

Peeta snorted.  “Do dogs shit?  He inherited some business sense but by working hard, he’s managed to overcome it.”

“Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel,” Gale said, laughing dryly.

“Let’s not even go there,” Peeta said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, sliding it across the table to the other man.  “I’d start with these first and then see what else you come up with.”

“You said two weeks?  Doesn’t give me much time,” Gale said as he unfolded the paper, whistling softly as he read through the list Peeta had made.  “Twenty four hundred a week plus expenses.”

“Done,” Peeta said quickly.  “I have a corporation set up that I can use to get the money to you because this cannot come back on me, understood?”

Gale nodded.  “I wouldn’t still be in business if I left my clients hanging out to dry, Mellark.  Your secret is safe with me.”

“Fine, I’ll be in touch soon.”  He pulled out his wallet and threw a twenty down before sliding out of the seat.  “Lunch is on me.”

~*~

He could feel it the second she walked into the room, like an invisible tether connected them.  Their eyes met and hers flicked away before darting back to his.  Peeta’s lips curled up around the rim of his whiskey.  She looked amazing tonight.  Her hair was up in a soft braid that was fastened at the back of her neck, begging for his fingers to slide through it and spread it over her shoulders.  The front of her black dress was demure, with a soft scoop neckline and a straight hem that hit just inches above her knee.  A rope of pearls caressed her throat.

She turned and his mouth went dry.  The dress draped in back, exposing the delicate lines of her back.  The long line of the pearl necklace hung down between her shoulder blades and all he could think of was wrapping it around his fist as he pounded into her.  He moved around the room, keeping her in his peripheral vision, finishing off his drink and setting the heavy cut crystal tumbler on the tray of a passing waiter.

As he strode to the bar, he caught a flash of red, glistening like the lips of her pussy, teasing from the bottom of her shoes.  His cock hardened instantly and he promised himself that she would keep the stilettos on when he fucked her later.

Her gaze found his again and he licked his lips, watching as a delicate flush crept over her cheeks.  She shifted restlessly and he knew he had her.  Time to up the ante.  Turning, he motioned to the bartender, getting another whiskey on the rocks.  He felt her coming closer until she was close enough that he could smell the deep, sultry notes of her perfume, the one he’d given her for her birthday. Underneath it, he could smell the delicate essence that was uniquely Katniss, one he was as intimately familiar with as his own name.  “Nice dress.”

She leaned against the bar, motioning for the attendant.  “Jameson’s, neat.”  The bartender nodded and poured her drink, handing it back to her.  Her fingers curled around the thick tumbler, lifting it to her lips.  “I bought it for you,” she said softly before taking a drink, tongue darting out to swipe along her lips afterwards.

“Upstairs, second room on the left,” he growled lowly, lifting his glass and finishing the drink in one long swallow.

She stiffened, her gaze darting to his. “We can’t-”

He cut her off.  “Two minutes.”  Pushing up off the bar, he strode rapidly through the room, leaving her behind.

 

 

Peeta waited behind a particularly large and ugly fichus, hidden just enough that she couldn’t see him, but he had a clear view of the stairway.  Glancing down at his watch, he smiled as he watched the minute hand tick towards twelve.  It’d taken her less than a minute to follow him up here.

She kept glancing back over her shoulder but moved forward, eyes searching the corridor for him.  The doors were all closed on this level and she walked forward slowly, darting glances back at the stairs as if expecting someone to be following her.  The tight hem of the dress made her hips sway and his fingers itched to close around them, pulling her against his body.

Katniss moved stealthily towards the door he’d told her to enter, fingers curling around the knob and pushing it open slowly, sliding into the small gap and closing it quickly behind her.  He smiled and stepped out from behind the plant, walking briskly towards the door.

Pulling it open, he stepped inside, closing it behind him and flicking the lock.  She whirled around, her eyes wide.  He stalked towards her, unfastening his tie as he walked, pulling it between his hands.  “Miss me, lover?”

“This is dangerous,” she said quietly. 

He could see the rapid beat of her heart in the pulse point at her neck and it turned him on even more.  Her nipples were tight little nubs pressing against the thin silk of her dress and he grabbed her hands, wrapping the length of his tie around them, binding them together.  Spinning her around, he let his hand glide slowly down the column of her spine, ghosting over the skin but not quite touching.  She shivered violently, goose bumps erupting on her skin.  Bending closer, he hovered over her neck, breath skating across her skin.  “You like danger, don’t you Katniss.”  His hand fisted in the long string of pearls, tugging it backwards so it tightened oh so gently against her throat.

Her back bowed and her legs spread as far as the tight skirt would allow.  His lips hovered near her ear and he could smell her arousal.  “Tell me lover, tell me how much you want me to fuck that pretty, pretty pussy.”  His other hand slid over her hip and over the thin material, feeling the outline of the garter belt that she wore.

“Please,” she breathed, flexing her fingers and rising up on her toes, thrusting her ass back against him, rubbing along the hard length of his cock.

“Do you want me to suck your clit into my mouth and flick it with my tongue and bite it until you come, screaming my name?” he whispered throatily, fingers teasing at the edge of her hemline, tugging it up her leg.  The soft lace of her stockings gave way to deliciously bare skin and he grazed his knuckles along her upper thigh, tugging harder on the pearls.  “Answer me, Katniss,” he demanded, biting her earlobe.

“Yes,” she sobbed, rocking her hips against his, the shoulder of her dress slipping down her arm, her bare breast and taut nipple pressing insistently against his arm.

“You want my cock inside of you, fucking you so hard that you see stars when you come,” he breathed.  His hand continued along the seam of her leg, a smile curving his lips when he realized she was completely bare beneath the garter belt.   She'd done it for him.

“Yes, oh please,” she begged softly, tongue swiping across her lips as she turned her head to look at him.  “I need you so much.”

He covered her pussy with his hand, thrusting two fingers into the slick heat, curving them as he fucked her leisurely, hitting her clit with his thumb on every stroke.  Releasing the pearls, he cupped her chin, holding her steady as he plundered her mouth, slanting his lips over hers with abandon.

Her body bucked against him, fingers moving deeply within her. He could feel her walls clenching against his fingers and he knew she was close.  He broke the heady kiss, teeth scraping along her jaw line.  “That’s it baby.  Come for me, beautiful girl.”

Her head fell back against his shoulder and a high, keening cry escaped her lips as she came.  Her cheeks flushed and her body pulsed around his fingers.  He stroked her through it, murmuring in her ear as the contractions rippled through her.  “I need to be inside of you, Katniss,” he said roughly, pulling his fingers from her and bunching up the skirt of her dress around her waist.

She nodded dazedly, leaning forward as he gently positioned her, hands braced on the high back of the couch in the room, legs spread wide, the deep red of the bottoms of her shoes winding him up like a bull with a flag.  He opened the fly of his pants and shoved them and the silk boxers he wore down his hips.  He moved behind her, tracing the lines of her pussy, coating his cock in her heat.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured as he slid into her slowly, holding her hips steady against his movements.  He gripped hard, knowing it’ll leave bruises that she’ll see tomorrow and remember.  It’s his own personal _fuck you_ to Seneca, knowing that his marks were on her body despite the ring she wore that branded her as another’s.  “And tight.”

“Fuck me, Peeta,” she begged, head hanging down between her bound arms.  Wispy tendrils of hair escaped her braid and it took every ounce of willpower not to thread his fingers through it and pull it down.  Soon, he promised himself.  Soon he’d be able to make love to her all night long, to feel her hair down around them like a curtain, blocking out everything but the two of them.  Right now though, he wanted to pound into her, fuck her so hard and fast that she came screaming his name.

He shifted his hips, rocking into her hard and fast, balls slapping against her ass with every thick thrust.  She moaned his name, pushing back against him with every wet slap of their bodies.  He bent over her, his hand sliding over her hip and into the soft curls between her thighs, pinching her clit between his fingers.

“Harder,” she panted, back bowing and arching in a sinuous curve that had him cursing and thrusting deeper, fingers locked tightly on her hips.

He pressed sharp, nipping kisses along the expanse of her spine, teeth scraping over the delicate lines of bone.  He was close, his balls were tight and the way she pulsed around his cock, drawing him deeper into her body made him feel amazing.  His cock felt like it was clenched in a hot, tight, wet fist.  “Scream for me, beautiful girl,” he panted against her back.

Katniss threw her head back, his name escaping her lips on a long, low moan.  Her sheath clenched around his cock and he groaned, following her over the edge, hips thrusting hard against hers.  Her knees buckled and he grabbed her, holding her tightly as they both fought for breath.

Standing up, he pressed gentle kisses to the length of her spine as she rose, face flushed and pupils dilated.  Tucking himself back into his pants, he glanced up at her from beneath his lashes.  “You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”

Katniss flushed and jerked the skirt of her dress down over her hips, glaring at him.  “I forgot what a smug bastard you can be when you’ve been drinking,” she snapped, holding her hands out in front of her, motioning for him to unfasten them.

Peeta unwound the silky material from her wrists, capturing one hand in his before she could move away.  He pulled her closer, sliding his palm along her cheek.  “I’m only smug because I know he never makes you feel what I feel.”

Katniss slapped him hard.  “Fuck you,” she hissed angrily.  “I hate this as much as you do, probably more.”  She tugged the shoulder of her dress up, nearly ripping the delicate fabric.

“Then fucking leave him,” Peeta snarled, sliding his tie around his neck once more, retying it with quick, angry motions.

Her eyes met his and he saw the pain reflected in them, the same pain that he knew lived in his own.  “I can’t,” she said softly.  “You have to stop asking me to.”

He finished with his tie and closed the distance between them, staring down into her quicksilver eyes.  “I need a wife, Katniss,” he said, putting heavy emphasis on her name, her real name and not the bullshit one the PR hacks had forced her to take on.  “And it’s getting to the point that I can’t put my dad and the rest of them off much longer.  I will be getting married and I would damn well prefer it to be you!”

She inhaled sharply, tears shimmering in her eyes.  His heart clenched as she closed them and dropped her chin.  “It can’t be, you don’t understand-”

His hands encircled her upper arms, shaking lightly until she looked at him once more.  “Then make me understand,” he said desperately.  “The truth, Katniss.”

“I… I can’t.” Wrenching free, she ran to the door, glancing back at him over her shoulder.  She pulled open the door and slipped through, shutting it behind her.

“Fuck!”


	4. I am yours and you are mine

_November 2005_

The house was boarded up and looked completely abandoned.  Peeta walked up onto the porch and tried the door.  It moved easily under his fingers and he stepped into the small house, his heart sinking further with each step into the abandoned space. He walked the length of it, taking note of every bare spot.  It was if she’d never even been here.  Everything that could be taken was gone, leaving behind four bare walls that screamed of the poverty and despair that they’d held.

Gale was standing in the living room when he came back out, leaning against the doorjamb.  “She’s gone.” 

“Where?” Peeta asked hoarsely.  His legs felt weak, wanting to buckle beneath the weight of the pain vibrating in his chest.

“You really want to know?  There’s nothing you can do to change anything.”

Peeta lunged across the small space, his hands closing tightly around Gale’s throat.  “Tell me or I swear to God I will kill you.”

Gale scoffed, pushing him away.  “You can try motherfucker.”  He watched impassively as Peeta stumbled, catching himself right before he fell to the ground.

“Where is Katniss?” Peeta demanded, standing up, fists clenching tightly at his side.

Gale shook his head.  “She married Seneca Crane last month.  Her new name is Katherine and if you loved her at all, you’ll forget about her.”

Peeta sank to his knees, his hands running through his hair.  “Why?”

Gale sighed deeply.  “You left, Mellark.  Her dad died and she had nowhere else to go.”  He walked out of the small house, leaving Peeta alone.

He stared around the small space and then resolutely rose to his feet, walking to the door and hardening his heart with each step.  By the time he reached his car, an icy wall had been built around his emotions.  Never again would he be played for a fool.

~*~

_Present Day_

 

Peeta downed the whiskey in his tumbler, peering into the empty glass.  Was this five or six?  Fuck it, why was he counting anyway?  It wasn’t like anyone gave a shit, other than his mother and he could give two fucks what she thought on a good day. 

Peeta stumbled out of the study, falling against the wall as he tried to walk down towards the family room.  He laughed; sloshing more whiskey into the tumbler from the cut glass decanter he held in his other hand.  “Scuse me,” he mumbled to the suit of armor that he ran into, nearly knocking it over. 

“Peeta Mellark!  Are you drunk?” 

The sibilant, hushed tones of his mother’s company voice made him look up blearily. “Fuck I hope so,” he slurred, taking another drink.  “Otherwise I’d have to pretend that you actually give a shit.”

“For god’s sake, go to your room and sleep it off!” she hissed, snapping her fingers for one of the housemaids to help her.   “Millicent, take the damn drink from him!”  The frightened girl leapt to do her bidding, coming up beside him and trying to take the decanter from him. 

He struggled, spilling whiskey all over his shirt and her starched white apron. “Get off!”  The girl finally succeeded in taking the decanter, disappearing back down the hallway with it.  “Dammit!  That was mine!” he shouted, leaning back against the wall and glaring at his mother.

“You will NOT embarrass me,” Charlotte Mellark said, eyes narrowed at her son.  “Go to your room willingly or you will be forcibly removed there.”

Peeta laughed, spilling more whiskey on himself.  “Whassa matter Mama?  Don’t want the company to see what your meddling has done?”

“My meddling?”  She drew herself up to her full height, six inches shorter than his, and gave him her most withering stare.  “You mean your cousin and that filthy girl he married?”  Charlotte laughed nastily.  “Good riddance to Seam trash.  Do you honestly believe we would’ve condoned your relationship continuing?  You’re destined for more, Peeta Mellark, even if you are a sorry excuse for a son.”

“I love you too, Mama,” he said, returning her glare with an icy one of his own.  “And for the record,” he said, pushing up off of the wall and towering over her.  “You don’t make my decisions for me.  If I wanted to fuck Greasy Sae, I would and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it.”

“Get out of my sight before I forget that you’re my son,” she hissed, nearly incandescent with rage.  Two angry spots of red stood out in stark relief on her pale cheeks as she glared at him.

Peeta gave her a mocking bow and stumbled down the hallway towards the stairs that would take him to his wing of the house.

~*~

He woke up several hours later with a blinding headache and cotton mouth.  Sitting up, he scrabbled on the bedside table for the switch to the lamp, knocking over everything before he finally found it.  Cursing as the light burned his eyes, he threw up a hand to shield them, nearly falling out of the bed as he swung his legs over the side.

The clock said it was just past eight, but it felt like he’d been asleep for hours.  If he was lucky, the dinner would be over and all he’d have to deal with was his mother’s wrath.  Stumbling to the ensuite bathroom, he ran a washcloth under the tap and used it to scrub his face.  Reaching for the glass next to the sink, he filled it with water and gulped it down, gagging a bit at the metallic taste.  It helped with the cotton mouth though and he filled another, drinking it down before leaving the bathroom and heading out of his bedroom.

He walked slowly down the long hall, his stomach roiling with the remnants of the whiskey and the turmoil from earlier over Katniss.  He could hear the sounds of the party still going on and he cursed again under his breath.  Couldn’t they just understand that he wanted some peace and quiet after what he’d been through the last four years?  Of course his mother wouldn’t, all she cared about was appearances and what better way to milk money and prestige than to present her war scarred son, limping from the wound that nearly took his life.  He’d served his time, coming home only when it was clear that he was a liability to everyone with his leg.

He intercepted a maid, speaking quietly.  She nodded and he smiled, moving towards the study.  He slipped inside, closing the door behind him.  As he ambled towards the couch, he froze, staring across the room at the other occupant.

Her quicksilver eyes met his and skittered away.  He caught a glimpse of the anguish in them and it zinged straight to his chest in a painful jolt that nearly sent him sprawling.  She looked almost exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her, head bent, shoulders bowed and moving, quiet sobs filling the space between them.  Her clothes were nicer than he remembered her having, obviously a consequence of her marriage into the Crane family.  Seneca would never let his wife appear in anything less than the best.  She was wearing a soft red shirt and a simple black skirt that flared gently at the bottom, drawing attention to the sleek line of her hips and the perfection of her calves.  Her hair was in a simple chignon, wisps trailing down around her cheeks.  He drank her in, his heart stuttering when his gaze landed on the glittering diamond ring.  It was large and gaudy, glinting in the soft light from the lamps in the room.  Of everything she wore, it rang the most false.  The Katniss he knew would never wear something so gauche. 

He walked to the bar, resolutely ignoring her and the pain in his chest.  Reaching for a glass, he poured a healthy shot of whatever bottle he laid his hand on first and downed it, relishing the burn that filled him.  Another shaky pour and more fire filled his gut, burning out the pain.

Turning around, he schooled his features into a bland mask that his mother would’ve been exceptionally proud of.  “Come to finish me off, sweetheart?”

Her head whipped up, gaze locking with his, her eyes wide in her pale face.  Her hands were wringing each other in frenzy as the tension built, arcing like a live wire, burning everything it touched.  Emotion skated across her features almost faster than he could process.  Pain, fear, loss and love.  It was the last one that got him, kicked him in the teeth and left him reeling.  It propelled him across the room in lurching, clumsy steps until he was right in front of her, hands closing around her biceps, shaking her, anger blazing so brightly he felt like he was consumed with it, scorching him with painful claws.  “ _Why_?”  His voice was hollow and broken and it seemed to break the spell she’d been under.  She crumpled, knees buckling, falling into him as tears spilled brokenly down her cheeks.

“I…Peeta….I’m sorry.”

Each word was a painful barb, clawing deeply into his chest.  His hands slid up her shoulders, closing around her neck.  His thumbs framed her cheeks, pushing her chin up to look at him.  He watched her swallow, saw the fear flit across her face and it made him sick.

He bent his head, brushing his lips across hers, his hand sliding back along her cheek to cup the back of her head, the other moving slowly down her arm and resting on her hip.  The noise she made as his tongue traced the seam of her lips was his undoing, and he jerked her closer, mouth opening over hers, tongue driving forcefully into her mouth.

She clung to him like a lifeline, molding her body against him as the kiss turned carnal, lips tongues and teeth clashing together hotly, almost inhaling the other in their need to be closer.

His leg thrust between hers, pulling her up and onto his heavily muscled thigh.  He could feel the damp heat between her legs and it drove him insane, his fingers tightening in her hair, his lips trailing down her chin, coming to rest on the leaping pulse at her neck.  Her hair spilled around them in a silken wave, sliding over his fingers and tickling against his cheek.

His teeth nipped painfully, making her gasp, her nails digging hard into his back.  Together, they stumbled back until her knees hit the edge of the couch.  She fell backwards and he was on her before she could blink, hips thrusting into hers as his lips covered hers again.  Her hands were in his hair, tugging hard at the soft blonde curls that were just beginning to return, nails dragging along his scalp. Her hips rocked up against his and he hissed, fumbling between them with his belt buckle.  Breaking the kiss, he sat up; unfastening his pants and pushing them down his hips, eyes darkening as she lifted her hips, shimmying out of her panties.  Her skirt was bunched up around her waist and all rational thought fled as his gaze latched onto her pussy, red and wet.

“Fuck,” he breathed, sliding his hands up her thighs, spreading them as he bent down once more, the blunt tip of his cock probing her slick heat.

“Please,” she panted, fingers clenching tightly on his arms.  “Need you so much.”

With a harsh groan, he filled her, eyes rolling back in his head when his cock was gripped in the tight wet heat of her pussy.  She lifted her legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist, arching up into his thrusts, her eyes wide and locked with his.  He rode her hard and fast, too overcome to go slow, an inferno licking along his veins with every wet slap of their bodies.

This was wrong, he fucking knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop.  Her body fit him like a glove and he never wanted to move from this spot. He’d found his home.  Rising to his knees, he pulled her with him, hands sliding under her ass, lifting her as he thrust upwards, his bad leg braced on the floor.  Pain radiated out from the jagged scar, but he was too far gone to care, lost in the heat and feel of her wrapped around him.  With the change in position, he could feel her getting close, her walls clenching tightly around him.  Her nails dug deep into the silk of his dress shirt, her mouth latching onto his ear, teeth worrying at the lobe.  He could hear her soft pants, matching his own harsher groans with each sinuous roll of her hips against his.

Her head dropped back, exposing the delicate lines of her throat.  He felt her come, rippling contractions that spread out from her core, leaving her shaking in his arms.  Her name expelled on a hard exhale, his balls tightening as he spilled deep within her body.  His leg finally gave out and they collapsed in a sweaty, spent heap on the leather couch, her head resting on his chest.

Peeta pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and she lifted her head, meeting his gaze.  His hand rose slowly, cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly over the soft skin.  “Fuck I missed you,” he breathed, leaning down to brush his lips across her kiss swollen ones.

Her lower lip trembled, tears shimmering in her eyes.  “I-”

His finger landed on her lips, cutting her off. “No, I don’t care why you did it, it’s done.  All I care about is fixing it.”

A knock at the door made them jump apart, Katniss darting to the other end of the room, scrambling to fix her clothes.  Peeta lurched to his feet, hissing in pain as his leg absorbed his weight, jerking his pants up and fastening them hurriedly.  He limped over to the door and pulled it open, blocking the view into the room with his body.   He talked loud enough that he covered the sounds of Katniss getting dressed behind him but the maid gave him a strange look as she handed over the covered plate that he’d requested on his way in here.  Closing the door, he leaned back against it, watching as she moved around the room, gathering her scattered clothing.

“I can fix your hair,” he said when she finally stilled, her bottom lip between her teeth, hands back to wringing each other dry.  Her gaze darted to his and she froze, looking every bit like a deer in headlights.

“It’s okay,” she whispered finally when he’d limped back across the room and set the plate down on the desk by the window. Her hands rose and she twined the heavy mass into a neat braid, using one of the pins that had held her chignon in place to fasten it up.

Peeta turned and leaned back against the desk, sighing in relief as most of his weight was off his leg.  He’d forgotten his cane when he’d left his room earlier.  Hell, he was damn surprised his mother hadn’t gotten rid of it, another reminder of what a failure he was in her eyes.  “So,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest, watching as she sat on the edge of the couch, knees pressed together tightly.  “How do we fix this?”

She was silent so long he nearly caved and broke the tense stillness but he knew her well enough to know that she’d speak when she was ready and not before.  Her gaze met his and he knew that he wasn’t going to like what came out of her mouth.  “I took vows, Peeta.  In a church.”

He snorted.  “Those vows meant a fucking lot to you twenty minutes ago when I was fucking you senseless on that couch.  Try another one Katniss.”

Two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks and she glared at him.  “I’m married, Peeta.  There is no fixing it.”

“Third time’s a charm, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she snapped, standing up and walking over to the windows, staring out at the perfectly manicured lawn. 

He rose painfully, breathing heavily through his nose as he fought against the tide of pain that washed through him.  Limping, he made his way towards her.  She’d turned the second she heard him move and he could see her waging a silent war whether or not to help him or let him do it on his own.  When he finally made it to where she stood, he could feel the cold beads of sweat rolling down his back.  He didn’t have much left and it took everything he had to stand there, facing her.  “Then give me an answer I can live with.”

Her hand slid along his arm and she gently turned him, leading him back to the couch, helping him sit down.  She knelt in front of him and stretched his leg out, her delicate fingers finding the long scar beneath his dark grey trousers, tracing it lightly. He winced and leaned back, closing his eyes as she mapped the contours of the wound that nearly killed him.  “I can’t give you an answer that will make you happy,” she said softly.

He lifted his head and stared down at her.  “Then give me the truth.”

Her face closed off and she rose, walking back to the window.  He watched her walk, the sinuous sway of her hips making him hard again. Fuck, he was a grown man and he couldn’t even control his own damn dick.  It was like being fifteen again.

“You can’t sweet talk this one, Peeta Mellark,” she said, tracing nonsensical patterns on the glass.  “What’s done is done and there’s no going back.”

“Unacceptable,” he snarled, trying to push to his feet.

“Stop it,” she said, spinning around.  “You can barely walk, don’t make it worse.”

He flushed and cursed, flopping back against the soft cushions.  “Then get me a fucking drink.”

Katniss shook her head as she gazed at him sadly.  “You can’t drown it in alcohol either, Peeta.”

“Just get me the fucking drink, Katherine,” he drawled nastily, smirking as she flinched.

“You don’t call me that. Not you,” she said, stalking to the bar and uncapping the first bottle she grabbed, splashing the dark amber liquid into a thick cut tumbler.  She brought it over to where he sat, staying just out of reach.

His fingers brushed hers as she handed him the glass.  “Why not, it’s your name, isn’t it?”

“I see you didn’t forget how to be a bastard,” she snapped, moving across the room and sitting down in one of the heavy wing chairs that flanked the couch.  “Taking lessons from mother dearest?”

“She is the best at it,” he said, lifting the glass and draining it, eyes closing in relief as the burn washed through him, knowing it would be bringing blessed numbness.

“And you were always better than that,” Katniss said archly.

His eyes shot open, pinning her with a sharp glare.  “Excuse me for being angry that the woman I promised everything to jilted me for my fucking cousin.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap.  “You weren’t here, Peeta.”

“No, I was off trying not to get killed while defending your freedom to FUCK ME OVER!”  His voice rose with every word until he was shouting the last.

She sighed deeply.  “I love you, more than life, but there is no fixing this. It’s over, Peeta.”

“The fuck it is,” he snarled, pushing hard on the couch and struggling to his feet.  His leg immediately buckled, sending him crashing to the floor.  Katniss was at his side instantly.  He growled and pushed her away, pulling himself back onto the couch, collapsing back against the cushions.

“I should get back; they’ve probably missed me by now.” 

She rose to her feet and started towards the door.  Peeta lunged forward, grabbing her hand.  “This isn’t over, Katniss.  I won’t lose you, not like this.”

Katniss gently extricated herself from his grasp.  “I’m yours, always.  Body and soul, Peeta, my heart belongs to you.”  Giving him one last sad smile, she left him, slipping out the door and shutting it behind her.


	5. Black Money

“Peeta, you know why we’ve asked you here, why don’t you have a seat.”  Brantford Mellark gestured to towards one of the big wing chairs in the library.  The room was crowded, filled with his father’s political cronies, some of the biggest wheeler dealers the Capitol had to offer.

Peeta limped over to the chair his father had indicated, sitting down and resting his cane on the arm of his chair.  One of the housemaids was immediately at his side, offering him a tumbler filled with two fingers of Jameson’s over ice.  Peeta glanced up at her and smiled and the girl curtsied before scurrying off, leaving the men alone in the room once more.

“Peeta,” Brantford said, leaning forward in his chair at the front of the room, facing directly across from where Peeta sat.  They were mirror images of each other, same blond, slightly curling hair, blue eyes and wide, stocky bodies.  “We’ve given you enough time son, to get your shit together.  You need a wife, the sooner the better; otherwise those votes that are supposed to fall into your pockets are going to be sitting in Seneca’s come election time.”

Peeta sighed, taking a sip of his drink to buy some time.  He’d known this was coming; his mother had been dropping hints of epic proportions literally from the second he’d gotten back into town.  She was so over the moon that Katniss was finally out of his life that he’d spent several weekends squiring around the various acceptable women that she’d carefully screened for him.  It made him sick, watching as these bright, intelligent women basically whored themselves to become Mrs. Peeta Mellark, junior senator from District Twelve.

“Peeta?”  Davros Vart said, drawing his attention.  “We’ve come up with a short list for you.  Each one of these young women comes from fine, upstanding families and they will do nothing but enhance your political clout.”

Peeta glanced at the portly man with spiked ginger curls and fought back shudders.  The porcine featured man had given him the creeps for years.  The rumors of what he paid women to do were outrageous and this was the man his father trusted to come up with the list for his wife?

“They’re all well versed in being a politician’s wife, too,” Ronon Gelft said from his perch next to Brantford, chortling as he mimed zipping his mouth shut.  His quivering jowls were enough to make Peeta want to vomit into the carpet next to his chair.

“Father,” Peeta started but Brantford waved him off.

“No more excuses, I’ve heard them all,” Brantford said, leaning back in his chair and studying his son from across the room.  “I know you have some silly notion that you need to love the girl you marry, but Peeta, that simply isn’t the case.  Mellark men have had arranged marriages for as long back as their recorded history goes.  It’s an alliance, son, and one you need, desperately if you’re going to succeed in the family business.”

“Can I at least like her?” Peeta asked in exasperation, scrubbing his hand over his face.  “Hell, if I have to get naked with her, I’d like to at least be able to have a conversation with her too.”

The room erupted in laughter, but Peeta noticed that his father’s was just a little bit forced and he winced, knowing he’d pay for it later when his mother got a hold of him.  Brantford motioned to Ronon, who stood up and walked over to the television hanging on the wall, turning it on.

“These are your choices,” Brantford said, turning slightly to see the large screen.  “First is Cecilia Rutherford, from District Eight.”  Peeta watched as a picture of a stunningly beautiful redhead with crystal green eyes appeared on the screen.  It split immediately, one side containing the picture, the other filling with statistics.  “She’s a year older than you, but her father has been a senator for nearly twenty years and she grew up in the Capitol.”

Excited twitters filled the room as the men began talking amongst themselves.  Some of them were even taking wagers on the outcome.  It sickened him and he took another hefty swallow of his drink, trying to block out their filthy comments.

“Wiress Galfont, of District Three.  Brilliant, has an IQ of 150, graduated top of her class at Panem University in robotics and biomedical research.  She currently holds a research scholar position at Panem University and works with Dr. Beetee Germaine, head of biomedical research.”  The woman on the screen had thick, dark hair and deep set brown eyes.  Her skin was pale, like she didn’t see the sun often.  Given her statistics and her simple beauty, he didn’t think she was their first choice.

“Hazelle Winston, District Six.  She’s a bit older than the others, but she’s the daughter of President Snow’s Minister of Finance.  She’s got a degree in home economics with a minor in finance.”  Peeta glanced up over the rim of his tumbler to see a brown haired, grey eyed woman with a long, thin nose and plump lips.  She wasn’t classically beautiful, like the first one had been, but her face held a certain charm.  He cursed under his breath.  Fuck that, the only woman he was marrying was Katniss, as soon as he figured out what the fuck it was that Seneca had on her.

“And last, although certainly not least, Glimmer Snow, daughter of our esteemed President.”  Ronon chortled, rubbing his hands together.  “She was promised to your cousin, Seneca on their twelfth birthdays, but as you know, he married that commoner woman.”  Ronon shook his head sadly.  “Political suicide, that,” he tutted.  “However, this means that she is on the market again and we all agree that she is the perfect choice for the next Mrs. Mellark.  She’s got beauty, brains and enough political clout to last you well into your majority.”

The whiskey went down the wrong tube and Peeta sat up, coughing heavily, his eyes watering as he fought for breath.  His heart was thumping madly and he waved away the men that sprang forward, holding his breath and trying to overcome the spastic motion of his esophagus.  Slowly, he inhaled, wincing as his raw throat protested but at least he could draw air once more.  “Father,” he squeaked, clearing his throat.  “You said I can choose, correct?”  His voice was raw and barely above a whisper, but Brantford heard him, sitting back in his chair and appraising him.

“No, I said I would offer you choices, Peeta.”

“I’m nearly thirty; you don’t trust me to choose my own wife?  Didn’t I just fight in a war to grant you and everyone else in here the right to make your own decisions?  How is it that I don’t get accorded the same courtesy?”

“You are twenty-seven, and like I told you earlier, Mellark men have always had arranged marriages, it’s the way it is, Peeta.  You knew that even before you went off to war.  You need to trust me on this one, son.  I have your best interests at heart.”

Peeta held his tongue, but his eyes blazed with determination.  _No, you just want to protect the family name and keep the money flowing, just like Mother._   No matter, he’d do what he wanted, four years of fighting in a war had at least given him the backbone to stand up for himself, something he thought he’d never learn.  Seneca was going to pay for taking what was his.

~*~

“Now ladies, please settle down, we have a lot to get through for today’s meeting.”  Glimmer Snow stood at the podium at the front of the room, looking out over the crowd of well to do and nattily dressed women.

Katniss sighed, crossing one leg over the other.  She hated these things, but Seneca had insisted on it as a condition of their deal.  Either she supported his career in any way he deemed necessary, or she’d face the consequences.  Since those consequences involved Prim, Gale or Peeta, she chose to obey.  The feathers on her fascinator tickled the side of her cheek, but she ignored it, much like she ignored the terse whispering going on next to her.  The dark camel knit of her sleek dress was at least comfortable, more than she could say for some of the other women.

“Now, we’ve decided upon our charity for the season, and we need to come up with the theme for the annual ball that will be held in two months.”  Glimmer looked around the room, her fake smile filled with just the right amount of graciousness.  “I, of course, suggested a black and white theme.  Can I get a second?”

Glimmer’s crony and best friend, Clove Marsimon raised her hand immediately from the front row of the crowded sitting room.  “I second!  I think it’s a fabulous idea.”

Madge Undersee stood up from her seat on the other side of the room from Katniss, shooting a glare at both Glimmer and Clove. “We just did a black and white ball for the spring fundraiser.  Could we at least try to be original?”

Glimmer’s eyes narrowed just slightly and her cheeks had a light dusting of pink as she widened her smile. “Why Madge, of course we can.  What theme do you suggest, honey?”

Madge gave her a tight smile in return.  “How about under the sea, since we are helping the orphans of District Four that were affected by the recent hurricane?”

The room full of women tittered into their hands and Katniss could hear the disparaging remarks from Finch Latell and Olivia Cutler.  She shook her head slightly, no way was anything but the black and white theme pass, but she gave Madge kudos for trying.  The petite blonde was staring out over the crowd, two bright spots of red high on her cheeks.  Her friend, Annie Cresta was trying to pull her down, but Madge stood firm, openly defying Glimmer and her ridiculous theme.  It wasn’t like any of the money raised would actually benefit the orphans of the storm.  No, that couldn’t happen, wasn’t in the rule book of society wives.  The husbands and fathers opened up their checkbooks to look good, not to really do anything worthwhile.

Madge spun around, her eyes finding Katniss’ in the crowd.  One arched eyebrow sent the message she needed.  Katniss sighed and stood up, pasting a sickly sweet smile on her face.  “I second Madge’s suggestion.  It’d be nice to call attention to the fact that we actually remember where the devastation occurred.”

Glimmer’s eyes met hers and the icy blues sizzled with unconcealed malice.  “Well, I guess we need a vote then.”

Katniss sat back down after shooting Madge a wink.  No sooner had she done so when Charlotte Mellark stood up, her lips turned down in a tight frown.  “Really, I don’t think that Mrs. Crane understands what our mission is with this benefit.  I realize that she is new to all of this and therefore some leeway should be accorded, but we’ve done things this way for years and no one has complained before.”  She turned to stare at Katniss, smiling widely.  “Perhaps dear, you should speak with some of the other ladies, the ones that have,” she paused for effect, “grown up in this lifestyle so you can ascertain how it is we do things in the Capitol.”

Katniss stood up slowly, the feathers on her fascinator quivering as she tilted her head.  “Mrs. Mellark, I had _no idea_ you cared about my well being so much, thank you for that.  I’m curious though, as to who you would think an acceptable role model for me to emulate, if not Miss Undersee?”  Katniss gave her a sickly sweet smile. “You perhaps?”

Katniss snorted internally as she watched the older woman struggle to maintain her composure.  Needling the bitch felt damn good but she’d pay for it later.  At least Prim was somewhere nobody could hurt her.  Peeta and Gale were big boys and could take care of themselves now, especially since Peeta was finally out of Afghanistan and the Navy.  Mrs. Mellark sighed dramatically, forcing her to pay attention to her once more. “Oh my dear, I couldn’t possibly.  I just simply don’t have the time now that I’m planning Peeta’s wedding.”  Locking her knees, she forced herself to stay upright after that little bomb exploded, shattering her heart.  Mrs. Mellark knew she’d scored a direct hit though and went in for the kill.  “Perhaps you could emulate his fiancée, such a lovely girl.  She’s the epitome of a Capitol woman.”

Katniss forced a toothy smile.  “And who might that be?”

“Me.”

Katniss spun around, the color draining from her face as she stared back at Glimmer.  She blinked several times, her heart shredding into a million pieces as the blonde’s smile grew wider and wider.  “We haven’t announced it yet, but the wedding will be in December, right in time for the holidays.”

“Congratulations.”  The word felt like sandpaper in her mouth and she sank back down into her chair, folding her hands together atop the smooth silk of her beige dress to hide their shaking.

“So,” Mrs. Mellark continued, smiling cattily.  “You’d do well to emulate Miss Snow; she really knows how things work.”

“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” Katniss said tightly.

Glimmer laughed, a bright tinkly sound that made Katniss flinch, as if nails had run down a chalkboard.  “Ladies, we need a vote.  We have two motions on the table.  The black and white theme that we have done for the past few years and has always been a fabulous success, or Madge Undersee’s idea of under the sea.”  The false sincerity that dripped from her words was enough to make Katniss want to stab her.  Every word was like a knife to her heart.  All that she’d done to protect him and it was all for nothing.  She’d lost it all anyway.

~*~

“Peeta, this just came for you.”

Peeta turned around from where he’d been staring pensively out the window to Delly standing in the doorway of his office, holding a small package.  He motioned her closer and she set the package down on his desk.

“I’m going to leave now, unless there’s something else you need done?”

Peeta glanced up at the blonde, a kind smile curving his lips.  “No, go home to your family, Delly. I’ll be fine.”

Delly smiled back.  “Thank you Peeta.  Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t, thank you.”

When she was gone, he slit open the package, pulling out a throwaway cell phone and a thin sheet of paper. 

_You’ll be receiving a phone call at 8pm sharp.  Do not ask who is talking, do not ask anything, just listen._

_G_

Peeta sighed; this is what his life had come down to, clandestine tactics and lonely dinners at home by himself.

He packed up his briefcase, tucking the phone and the note into it before locking up his office and leaving.  The best thing he’d done since coming home was move out of his parent’s house and into one of the big new houses in the development south of town, VictorsVillage.  His house was huge and empty but it was his and gave him the solitude he craved as well as distance from his mother and her wedding planning. She didn’t even bother asking him for input anymore after he’d rebuffed her over the color of the napkins for the rehearsal dinner. 

He drove slowly through traffic, not paying attention to much more than the changing of the lights and the slowly gathering darkness.  It was fully night by the time he pulled into his garage, turning off the car and sitting there, staring off at nothing.  He hadn’t seen Katniss in nearly two weeks and it was driving him mad, knowing that she lived only a few hundred feet from him.  If he was truly honest with himself, half the reason he’d bought the damn house was because he could see the one she lived in out of his bedroom window.

Sighing deeply, he unbuckled and pushed up and out of the car, shutting the door and walking into the dark and empty dining room.  His mother’s decorator had filled the house with furniture that was uncomfortable and fussy and he’d had the lot of it carted off and dumped.  Leaving his briefcase on the counter, he pulled out the phone and a legal pad and grabbed a pen, heading upstairs to the only room that he’d furnished, the master bedroom.

A big cherry sleigh bed dominated one wall of the room, draped with bed coverings of varying shades of dark green.  The walls were painted soft beige and on the far side of the room he’d begun a mural of the woodlands of District Twelve to remind him of home.  Paintings filled the walls, every one of the ones he’d done while recuperating, pouring his pain and despair onto a canvas, trying to find the beauty in living once more.  Vivid landscapes of his time in the desert, stark rock formations and dank, dreary caves that he’d spent far too much time in.

He tossed the phone and the other stuff onto the bed and walked into the closet, taking off his shoes and lining them up against the wall.  The Navy had reinforced his natural neat tendencies and even now, two years after he’d gotten out, he still kept his closet the same way he had in basic.  Sliding his tie off, he hung it on the rack and unfastened the top two buttons on his dress shirt.  His jacket went into the dry-cleaning bag standing in the corner of the large, nearly empty closet.  Raking his hand through his hair, he walked back out into the bedroom, picking up the remote on the bedside table and flicking on the tv before stretching out on the bed.  Leaning down, he picked up the phone and the legal pad, setting the phone down next to him while he opened the pad to a heavily marked up page.

He’d written down everything he knew about Seneca’s underhanded dealings, but there were still some big chunks of the puzzle missing, chief among them being why the hell Katniss had married him. 

Peeta picked up his pen and flipped to a new page, making notes about what he wanted to talk to Gale about the next time they spoke.  The phone beside him began to ring, startling him.  He set the pad down and picked up the phone, flipping it open.  “Hello?”

“No names and no polite bullshit, this is an information dump only, you understand?”

The voice was rough and gravelly but it sounded familiar.  Only one person had ever spoken to him like that in his life, other than his gunnery sergeant at basic and it sure as hell wasn’t Gunny Monroe on the other end of this phone.

“Understood.”

“Good,” the voice continued.  “You’re looking into things that can get you killed if the wrong people find out about your interest, you know that, right?”

Peeta sighed.  “I do, and I didn’t survive four years in the nastiest shithole on the planet to be afraid of the likes of Seneca Crane.”

The voice on the other end of the line laughed, deep throaty peals that ended in a dry, hacking cough.  “That one’s been bad pretty much since he slithered his way outta the womb, but I don’t have to tell you that, do I boy?”

“No,” Peeta said flatly.  “Are you going to tell me something I don’t know or did you just call to catch up on old times?”

Another dry laugh and cough.  “You’ve gotten a lot harder since you left.”

“Again with the things I know.  How about I ask some questions of you?  Why did he marry her?”

“Still hung up on the girl?”  The voice dissolved into cackling laughter.  “Good, that might give you enough incentive to see this shitstorm through.”

“My relationship with her is none of your business, unless you want me to start dragging shit out of your past, hmm?”

“Told tall, dark and arrogant that you weren’t going to let that one go, but he chose to believe otherwise.  So yes, I know the answer to that and many more questions that you probably haven’t even thought to ask yet.”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

Another caustic burst of laughter.  “Well, for starters, I thought you were smarter than the assholes that gave birth to you, but I may be wrong about that one.  Your father, yes, he just wants to keep his mistress and not have to share a bed with the woman he married.   Your mother on the other hand wants to rule the world.”

“We all have our unique talents and hers just happens to be making everyone around her feel like the shit you scrape off your shoes after walking through a birthing barn.”

“Might be a useful skill to learn, you are in politics, after all.”

Peeta laughed mirthlessly.  “I’ll pass.  She’s got her own lynch mob that’s gleefully awaiting her fall from grace.”

“You do know that this goes deeper than the pretty face that stole your girl, right boy?  Straight to the top and dirty all the way back down.”

“Kinda figured that, after I got to looking at the votes coming up,” Peeta said softly.  “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” the voice said flatly.  “Lesson number one, trust no one.  Not your pretty little secretary, not the private dick that you hired and especially that girl I hear you’re gonna be making your wife soon.”

Peeta snorted.  “I’d be a fool to trust her; she was handpicked by my father’s yes men. If they had a non-lecherous thought between the lot of them, I’ll be damned.”

“They like to think that women are nothing more than brood mares, and it’s what’s going to help take them down in the end.  That girl that you’re pining for though, she’s one you can trust, up to a point.”

“The only people I trusted are dead - killed out in the hellhole I got out of.  I’m still not sure why I survived when they didn’t, but that’s a question for a different man.”

“Gonna be about the same kind of shitstorm, only with the bad guys a lot less defined.”

“Again with the things I already know,” Peeta said tiredly, scrubbing his face with his hand.

“I don’t have the power to give you the answers you’re wanting, but I can put you in touch with the one that does.  Expect another package in a day or so.”

“Fine, but just so you know, I’m not backing off, if that was your intent?”

“I never had any doubts,” the voice said. “Just don’t forget who the enemy is.”

“Never,” Peeta said quietly.


	6. Fumbling towards ecstasy

The package was waiting for him when he arrived at the office the next morning.  Delly had left it sitting on his desk, unopened.  If she had a clue what was going on, she didn’t say.  Probably for the best, he thought as he nodded a greeting to her.  The less she knew, the less danger she was in. Crane played for keeps.

Sitting down heavily in his chair, he raked his hands through his hair, leaving it looking no better than it did this morning when he’d finally awoken from a night of restless tossing and turning, feeling more tired than when he’d gone to bed.  His dreams had been as unsettled as his thoughts, vague images and a menagerie of horrific images, mostly featuring Katniss dying at Crane’s hands.

With a muttered curse, he leaned forward and grabbed the package, pulling the tab to open it up.  A single cell phone slid out when tilted it, landing on his desk with a soft thump.  So innocuous, yet so deadly when wielded in the right hands.  Information was a priceless commodity and one he didn’t have very much of right now.

Reaching for the cell, he palmed it and stuck it into his pocket as he rose from the chair, walking briskly towards the door of his office.   “Dell, I’m going out for awhile, I’ve got my phone if you need me.”

She glanced up and nodded, reaching for her appointment book and marking something down.  “Don’t forget, you have a meeting this afternoon at three with your father’s advisors.”

Peeta grimaced, fuck he’d forgotten all about that stupid meeting.  “I should be back by then, but if it looks like I won’t be, can you reschedule it?”

Delly frowned at him.  “Peeta, you’ve already rescheduled twice.”

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair.  “Fine, just make sure that I’m only in there with the damn vultures for thirty minutes.  Make something up, I don’t care, but I want it to be done in thirty, okay?”

Delly nodded, making a notation on the book.  “Understood, anything else?”

“No, thanks.”  He began walking to the door before stopping and spinning around.  “Listen, take yourself out to lunch on me though, yeah? You work too damn hard and I probably don’t pay you nearly enough.” he said as he began walking to the door once more.

“Peeta?”

He stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.  “You feeling okay?  You’re acting a bit weird.”

He shrugged.  “Lots going on Dell, what with the wedding and the votes on the appropriations coming up, just under some stress.”

“Okay, and thanks,” she said softly.  “For the lunch, I appreciate it.”

“No problem Delly,” he said, grasping the handle of the door and pulling it open before stepping out into the cold, early winter day.  He’d left his damn coat hanging on the rack and rather than walk back in, he ran to the car, unlocking it and getting in, flipping the heater to high as soon as he turned the ignition over.

Rubbing his hands briskly, he blew into them before putting the car in drive and backing out of his parking spot.  He drove aimlessly, as far from the center of town as he could get before pulling over at a park on the outskirts of town.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled the phone out and hit redial, listening to it ring for several long moments.

“Where are you?”

Peeta glanced around and ducked down lower in the seat.  “A park outside of town.”

“In your vehicle?”

“Yes, its freezing outside.”

“I’m triangulating your location; a car will be by in fifteen minutes to pick you up.  Wait outside of the vehicle and don’t say another word until you’ve gotten into the vehicle and driven away.  Understood?”

Peeta sighed.  “Fine, but I’m not getting out of the car until I see the other car, I’m not freezing my nuts off for fifteen minutes so you can play cloak and dagger.”

“Does this sound like a game to you, Mr. Mellark?”

“What?  No, but it’s damned cold outside, surely you know that if you’re only fifteen minutes away.”

“I never said _I_ was fifteen minutes away, did I, Mr. Mellark.  I only stated that a car would be by to pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

“Fine, what does the car look like?”

“I won’t be telling you that, Mr. Mellark until we can ascertain that your vehicle hasn’t been compromised in any way.”

“Then how will I know I have the right car?” Peeta said in exasperation.

“Twelve minutes, Mr. Mellark, and you’ll know.”

The dial tone buzzed in his ear as the other party hung up and he cursed long and lowly as he flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat.  This cloak and dagger bullshit was getting old fast.

Peeta lifted his wrist and watched the minute hand as it slowly ticked around.  At one minute till, he got out of the car, jamming his hands into his pockets against the frigid wind that had kicked up.  Shivering violently, he narrowed his gaze against the tears that filled his eyes.  A black suburban pulled into the parking area, stopping directly in front of him.  The back door was pushed open, waiting for him to enter the car.  His heart thumped rapidly.  Nobody knew he was here, he hadn’t told Delly what he was doing.  He had to trust in the fact that the unknown voice on the other end of the line wasn’t going to take him off and kill him.

A man in a dark suit stepped out of the passenger seat, dark wraparound sunglasses covering his eyes.  He lifted his hand and spoke into his wrist.  Peeta could see a thin wire coming down from behind his ear and he shook his head.  For the first time since he got back from the war, he was scared.  Bone deep scared, like he’d stumbled into the biggest clusterfuck around and he was the only one without a weapon.

“Get in the car Mr. Mellark.”

Peeta shook his head.  “No, I think I’ll take my own car.”

The man shook his head.  “Your vehicle may be compromised.  It will be here when you return, swept clean.  Please get in the car.”

“And where is the car taking me?”  Peeta asked, shivering violently again as another icy blast of frigid wind blew up.

“To a secure location.”

“People know where I am,” he said abruptly.  “You can’t just kidnap me.  I’m a Representative.”

“I’m well aware of who you are, Mr. Mellark and I assure you, no one is kidnapping you.  We’re taking you to a secure location to have a discussion, that’s all.  When it is finished, you will be brought directly back here to your vehicle.”  The man grimaced as the wind made his jacket flap.  “It’s very cold out here and I’m not really in the mood to be standing out here in the freezing wind, so would you please get in the vehicle?  The sooner you do so, the sooner we can return you.”

Peeta sighed deeply and walked to the car, stepping into the dark interior.  The windows were tinted black and the seats were black leather.  A divider was up between the passenger seats and the front seats so he couldn’t even see who was driving him.  It was unnerving to say the least.  It was warm though, especially after being out in the frigid wind coming off the lake.  Heat poured out of hidden vents as he sat down and leaned gingerly back against the soft, leather seats.  The man that had gotten out gently closed the door and Peeta heard him bang on the top of the car once before they started moving.

The divider began to slide down, drawing his attention.  “There is a phone in the pocket behind my seat.  Press one please.”

Peeta leaned forward and slid his hand into the pocket, pulling out a phone that looked identical to the one he’d left behind in his car.  Flipping it open, he pressed one and waited, listening as the call began to ring through.

“You are a stubborn man.”

“Some days,” Peeta said softly.  “But I’m also careful.”

“As you should be, you’re swimming in shark infested waters, Mr. Mellark.”

“You know my name, isn’t it fair that I know yours?”

A dry chuckle.  “Cedric Boggs, Capitol Attorney, Federal Division.”

“Well, that clears up a lot about how you pulled off this little maneuver,” Peeta said, releasing the breath he didn’t remember holding in.  “Am I under investigation?”

“All of your questions will be answered, Mr. Mellark, as soon as you arrive at your destination.”

“I’m guessing you think Crane has my car and office bugged?”

“It’s quite possible, given his level of paranoia and the fact that you and his wife are having an affair.”

“And how the hell do you know that?”

Another dry chuckle.  “Secrets are hard to keep in the Capitol, Mr. Mellark.  You should be more discreet at parties.”

“Crane doesn’t know about the affair, if he did, he’d have done something about it,” Peeta said quickly, sweat beading on his forehead.  His gut rumbled and if he hadn’t been sitting down, his knees likely would’ve buckled.

“I doubt anyone but my office knows about the affair, Mr. Mellark.  We make it our business to know things other people don’t.”

Peeta snorted.  “Like the fact that Crane is dirty all the way to hell and back?”

“Yes, that and more, much more.  Sit back and enjoy the ride and we’ll speak further when you get here.”

“Fine, but I have a meeting with my father’s cronies at three, so I have to be back in the office by then.”

“You will be, that’s one meeting we want you to keep.”

~*~

By the time the car pulled to a stop in front of a slick glass building, Peeta was about ready to come out of his skin.  He and Katniss hadn’t exactly been discreet when they’d disappeared together to go fuck like rabbits in one of the upstairs bedrooms of the mansion that fundraiser had been held at.  Hell, he barely kept a coherent thought in his head once he’d seen her in that dress and those fuck me heels.  Every drop of blood had rushed directly to his cock as well as all of his brain cells.  The little brain didn’t think much beyond the need to feel her pussy clenching tightly around him, milking him to completion, despite the danger they were both in.  She was his.  His body knew it instinctively, overriding everything else.

He was playing a dangerous game, with a dangerous man and he needed to quit letting the little brain take over every time she came near him.  He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake and he couldn’t control his dick whenever she was within ten feet of him.

The driver sat silently, eyes straight ahead as the door on Peeta’s right opened, another one of the men in black suits standing there, holding the door open, eyes hidden by dark glasses.  He got the feeling though that despite the bored look on his face, he missed nothing.  Peeta stepped from the car and another dark suited man fell into step with him, leading him up the stairs towards the doors of the massive building.  Once inside, the cool silence enveloped him.  Their shoes clicked softly on the highly polished floor as they walked across the lobby towards a bank of gleaming silver elevators.  One of his escorts pushed the button, and the other turned, facing out on the way they’d just come.  Prickles of cold sweat beaded on Peeta’s lower back and he shoved his shaking hands into his pockets.

The door slid open silently and the first of his escorts stepped inside, taking up position by the panel.  Peeta stepped in, leaning against the back wall as the other guard spun around and slipped inside just before the doors slid closed.  The ride was quick, the car rising almost inhumanly fast.  With just the slightest shake, the car slid to a stop and the doors slid open onto a floor filled with people.  Every available floor space was taken up with cubicles, filled with more people in dark suits, both men and women, staring at computer screens and doing whatever it was they did in the pursuit of justice.  His escort motioned for him to exit the car and he did so, stopping right in front of the doors.

A short woman with blunt cut grey hair and a perfectly tailored black suit awaited him, stepping forward with her hand out as the doors slid shut behind him.  “Good morning, Mr. Mellark.  I’m Alma Coin, Assistant Capitol prosecutor.  If you’ll follow me, please, I’ll take you to Mr. Boggs?”

Peeta nodded and she spun around, leading the way through the sea of cubicles to an office in the back corner of the long room.  A heavy wooden door set it apart from the rest of the offices that lined the wall, their doors clear glass that he could see through.  Coin knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and walking inside.  Peeta followed, stopping short at the view that greeted him.  The Capitol was spread out in all it’s perfection, gleaming glass buildings and exquisitely manicured gardens and parks, each one more fantastical than the last.  The windows were clear; one long band that stretched from one side of the office to the other, offering an interrupted view of the purple mountains that surrounded the city on all sides.

From behind the massive mahogany desk, a short, stocky man rose, walking towards him purposefully.  “Cedric Boggs, Capitol Attorney.”

Peeta met his handshake with one of his own and they spent the next several seconds sizing each other up over their clasped hands.  “Peeta Mellark.”

Boggs released his hand and gestured towards one of the chairs flanking his desk.  “Please, Mr. Mellark, have a seat.”

“You can call me Peeta,” he said as he sat down, tugging up his pants and crossing one leg over top the other.

“Peeta, it’s nice to finally meet you.  I wish it was under better circumstances, but we don’t always get that luxury.  We’ve followed your career closely since you returned from the front and you’ve done an impressive amount of work in the short time you’ve been in the Capitol.”

Peeta nodded.  “I went into politics because it’s the family business, but I discovered that I really liked making a difference.”

Boggs smiled briefly before reaching for a file from the leather box behind him and spreading it open on top of the pristine desk.  “I suppose you have questions?”

Peeta slid his foot down and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees.  “How much do you know?”

“We know a great deal, Peeta.  Enough to put Seneca away for a very long time.”  Bogg’s expression sobered.  “But he’s just the tip of the iceberg, this goes all the way to the top.”

Peeta leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Yeah, I kind of figured that.  I didn’t grow up not knowing how things really worked.”

Boggs leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together.  “Yet you do things aboveboard.”  He smiled slyly.  “Except where it concerns Mrs. Crane.”

Peeta gave him a tight smile in return.  “Corruption isn’t hereditary, Boggs.”

Boggs shrugged.  “In the case of Mr. Crane, apparently it is.  Your uncle is in as deep as his son.”

Blue eyes met stony green, neither giving an inch.  “As is my father.”  Boggs nodded slowly and Peeta sighed again, fingers drumming hard against his thigh.  “I’m ninety percent certain that’s my mother’s influence, but regardless, it needs to stop.”

Boggs leaned forward, staring at him intently. “That’s where you come in, Peeta,” he said, gesturing towards the stacks of files behind him.  “We have reams of evidence, but so far there’s nothing to tie the mastermind into everything.”  He picked up his pen and began to twirl it between his fingers.  “Seneca is too narrow-minded to be the brains behind all of this. He’s cunning, and deadly if pushed, but this is being set up by someone who understands that subtlety and terror work far better than brute force.”

“And you think it’s Snow?”

“We know it’s him, he’s been in power far too long for it not to be connected to him.  Besides, it fits his modus operandi perfectly.  He’s a subtle bastard, that’s for certain.”

“I have no connection to him, what do you need me for?”

Boggs snorted.  “Because you’re the only clean one in the bunch.”

Peeta shook his head, slumping back against the chair.  “Well shit, that doesn’t say much for our political system, does it?”

Boggs shrugged.  “If we can clean out the corruption, we might have a shot at something decent, but it’s gonna take work…” his gaze turned steely. “And commitment.”

Peeta inhaled deeply.  “So, what happens now?”

“We find someone to testify.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Boggs smiled cagily.  “We’re working on some leads.”

“What if I could give you Crane’s wife?”

Boggs shook his head.  “Her testimony would be useless; she’s bound by spousal privilege.”

“Not if he blackmailed her into marrying him, that would invalidate the privilege, wouldn’t it?”

“Can you prove it?”

Peeta sighed again.  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.  She refuses to tell me the truth, thinks she’s protecting me.”

“Maybe she is, Seneca isn’t above wet work, how do you think he got elected so quickly?”

“I can take care of myself; I survived a war, didn’t I?”

Boggs shrugged.  “She’d be a good start, but we need more.”

“Who else?”

“Like I said, we’re cultivating some leads.  I won’t give you my entire hand, Peeta.  There are some things that are better left unsaid… for now.”  He glanced down at his watch.  “We’ve kept you long enough, any more and people might get suspicious.  Your vehicle is waiting for you at the park where you left it.  If you need to contact me, use the phone you’ll find in the car.  Dial one and someone will take the call.”

Peeta rose to his feet.  “If Katniss testifies, she walks away clean, that’s my price.”

Boggs smiled coldly.  “Are you always this noble, Mellark?”

“For her alone,” he said softly.  “My parents made their bed, now they can lie in it.”

~*~

Peeta picked up his phone after he got into his car and watched the black suburban drive away, leaving him alone once more.  He punched in the number he wanted and waited impatiently for it to go through.  The second it did, he began speaking, too angry for pleasantries.  “I’m four miles outside of town; meet me at Sae’s diner in twenty minutes.”

Peeta listened for a second to the response on the other end of the phone and then snarled a curse.  “I don’t fucking care if you’re busy.  I’m done playing the bullshit games.  Meet me at Sae’s.”  He hung up the phone and tossed it down onto the seat.  His hands were shaking again, this time with anger.  Rage filled him, screaming along his veins like lava.  He’d known things weren’t perfect, but he’d never thought his dad was as mixed up in all of this as much as he was.  The files that Boggs had given him to read on the ride back had made his stomach churn with nausea.  The sheer audacity of the shit they’d pulled was astounding, and the fact that they’d gotten away with it for so long was mind boggling.

Jamming the key into the ignition, he turned it hard, stomping down on the gas pedal.  The engine revved loudly and he jerked the stick, slamming it into gear as he peeled out, leaving tire marks on the asphalt.  He drove fast, recklessly fast, the window rolled down to keep him from upchucking from the nervous energy buzzing through him right now.

He made it to Sae’s in ten minutes, ten less than it should have.  Turning off the car, he sat in the seat, clenching and unclenching his fists.  The time for lies was over and if Gale didn’t give him the answers he wanted, he was going to make sure Katniss did.

Gale’s battered pickup truck pulled into the lot and Peeta stared at it as Gale parked and got out, tugging his Stetson further down over his eyebrows.  He waited until Gale was almost inside before pushing open the door and stepping out, kicking the door shut behind him.  He locked it and jammed the keys in his pocket before striding rapidly up to the door, pulling it open.  The cheery sound of the bell made his blood boil even more and he searched the small dining room for Gale, spotting him just sitting down at a table in the corner, smiling up at the pretty waitress that had hurried over to greet him.

Peeta stalked through the small diner, jerking out the chair and spinning it around, straddling it.  He leaned his arms on the top and stared over at Gale who snorted at him.  “Panties in an uproar?”

Peeta slapped his hand on his thigh.  “Fucking hilarious, Hawthorne, really.  You missed your calling, stand up is really your forte.”

“Fuck you Mellark.  You don’t pay me enough to like you, and I don’t appreciate being ordered around like some little toady.  As of today, we’re through, understand?”

Peeta shook his head.  “Not this time.  This time, I’m making the rules and you and her are going to play by them, understand?”  Gale shoved his chair back and began to rise.  Peeta slammed his hand down on the table.  “Sit your fucking ass down right now before I show you exactly what I learned during the war.”  He leaned closer and whatever it was that Gale saw in his eyes, it made him sit back down, glowering across the table at him.  “I want the truth about what happened in that fucking mine and I want to know what the hell Crane could’ve possibly told her to maker her marry him and I want it now.”  His tone was velvety soft, laced with steel and only loud enough to carry across the table. 

Gale flinched like Peeta had hit him. “Not my story to tell.”

Peeta narrowed his gaze and raked his hand through his hair.  “Part of it is, isn’t it?”

Gale swallowed hard.  “Not here.”

“Outside then, my car is clean,” Peeta said, standing up and letting Gale lead the way out of the small diner.  Clicking the lock on his car, Peeta slid into the driver’s seat as Gale walked around to the passenger side, pulling open the door and getting inside. 

Peeta started the car and backed out of the spot, flicking the stick into gear and driving off as Gale began to speak.

~*~

Katniss walked into the sitting room and froze as the light by her favorite chair clicked on.  Peeta was illuminated by the small circle of light, a beacon in the otherwise dark room.  “What are you doing here?” she stammered, glancing around as if Seneca was going to walk in any second.

“I needed to see you,” he said simply, crossing one leg over top the other, balancing his foot on his knee.

“You can’t be here,” she said, the words falling from her lips in a rush.  “It’s dangerous.”

Peeta’s lips curled up in a mocking smile.  “We’ve already established that danger is an aphrodisiac for you, Katniss.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes flicking closed and then open, her heart leaping in her chest.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here,” he commanded again, more forcefully, his voice taking on a hard edge that had her body responding with alarming ferocity.  Damp heat gathered between her thighs and her nipples tightened beneath his piercing gaze.

She took a stuttering step forward, her gaze locking onto his like a lifeline.  She’d never seen him be so primal before and it drew her closer like a moth to a flame.  His lips curled into a smirk that made her stop just inches away from him.

“Closer, Katniss.”  His voice was hard and deep and she wavered, fingers drumming lightly on her thighs.  Languid heat danced along her veins, her core pulsing with steadily increasing tension.  His gaze swept over her, lingering on the hard points of her nipples, poking out the thin cotton of her shirt.

“No,” she breathed.

The smirk turned feral and he leaned forward, not quite invading her space, but close.  “Come closer.”

She shivered, goose bumps springing up on her arms even as her thighs clenched tightly together.  One more step would bring her within reach, one tiny little step but she couldn’t seem to make her legs take it.  Heat swept through her like a brushfire, searing everything in its wake.  His eyes raked over her hotly, leaving no doubt in her mind what was going to happen when she finally closed the distance between them.  Her pussy throbbed, the swollen nub of her clit rubbing against the lace of her panties.  His lips curved up wickedly.  He knew what he did to her, reveled in it even.  Her tongue darted out to swipe along dry lips.  He knew she’d cave, she always caved.  His touch was addictive, seducing her with its intensity.  He knew how to play her body like a fine tuned instrument, wringing depth and passion from her with a maestro’s skill.  She took the step, knees threatening to buckle at the banked heat in his gaze.

“Turn around, let me see that pretty ass of yours.”

Katniss drew in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed briefly before she spun.  If it was torture to have him look at her before, now, knowing that she couldn’t see what he was doing behind her made her nearly insane.  Her panties were soaked, slick moisture coating the soft feminine folds, awaiting his touch.

Big hands covered her hips, drawing her slowly, inexorably backwards.  Her knees bumped against the soft cushions of the chair and she gasped.  He steadied her, hands gliding down her thighs, curving around and gently spreading her legs wider.  “Straddle my legs.”  His breath was hot against her back. The skirt she wore was no barrier to his touch and touch her he did, slipping his hands over her, skimming along the lines of her panties, long fingers teasing against the sodden bit of lace between her legs.  He drew the panties slowly down her legs, waiting until she’d stepped out of them before balling them up.  She couldn’t see what he did with them, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d pocketed them.  Peeta had been stealing her underwear for as long as they’d been together.  He must have quite the collection by now.  Her breath hitched and she fought back laughter as she pictured his collection, tucked neatly under his bed for easy access.

“Something funny?”

His deep voice and breath skimming across her back made her jump, more goose bumps erupting in the wake as he rose, lips ghosting over her back as he slowly drew her shirt up and over her head.  His hands cupped her breasts, pinching the nipples through the delicate lace.  Katniss moaned, arching her back to press against his hands and the delicious friction he was causing.

He pinched hard and she gasped, the pleasure pain searing along her nerves.  “Answer me, Katniss,” he grated in her ear.

Her head dropped back to rest on his shoulder, head swimming in the miasma of lust spinning through her body.  “What?”

“What made you laugh?”  His tongue darted out, licking the shell of her ear, drawing another deep moan from her.

“Panties,” she gasped as his teeth closed around her earlobe, biting lightly.  "Collection."

He grunted, sliding his hands down her ribcage and around to her back, unfastening the clasp of her bra and pulling it free.  He kissed his way down her back, little nipping kisses along the ridge of bone as his hands slid down her waist, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her skirt, pulling it slowly down her legs.  She stepped out of it, standing totally nude before him.  She heard his shirt hit the floor, felt the soft ripple of air as it settled gently.  His pants followed, the heavy jangle of his buckle thumping on the floor.

He rose slowly behind her, hands ghosting slowly over her body, teasing against the soft curve of her hip, the slight dip at her waist, further up, over her ribs to cup her breasts once more, drawing her back against his body.  She could feel the hard line of his cock, pressing against her ass and she moaned, rubbing against it.

His breath escaped on a sibilant hiss, tongue curling around her ear once more, hot breath skating across her ear.  “Do you want me to fuck you, Katniss?”

“Yes,” she breathed, arching into his touch, the pebbled tips of her nipples grazing against the roughness of his palms.

“I want answers, Katniss,” he growled, pinching her nipple between his finger and thumb and twisting it until she was on her toes, moaning his name.

“I…I can’t,” she panted, her hips moving restlessly against his cock.  Fuck, she was so turned on - a breeze across her clit would make her come.  She wanted him inside of her, filling her, making everything but the two of them together fade away.

His other hand slid down her belly, delving through the slick curls to find her clit, rubbing it in hard, fast circles.  “You can… you will,” he demanded.

“No.”  The word escaped her lips in a breathy moan, tension ratcheting in her core as he worked her hard, one hand on her breast, the other thrusting into her body, curving just so to make her writhe against him.  Her body was coiled so tightly, desire spinning through her, leaving her breathless with need. He stilled his hand and she whined, thrusting her ass back against him.  “Please,” she begged hoarsely.

His lips glided over her neck, tongue darting out to lick at the beads of sweat that had dripped down from her scalp.  His teeth closed over the ridge of her collarbone and she panted heavily, nails digging into his thighs.  He moved slowly up her neck, nipping and sucking a trail up to her ear.  “The truth, Katniss,” he growled lowly, taking one of her hands and sliding it over his cock, thrusting into it.

“What truth?” she cried, heat surging through her in an endless wave, nerves fraught with tension, teetering on the brink.

“The mines,” he snarled, his hand cupping her chin and turning her head so that he could devour her neck with hot, licking bites.  The sharp, stinging pain made her blood sing and she squeezed him harder, rubbing the hot column of flesh in her hand.

Katniss was consumed, desire coiling tightly in her core, spreading like lava through her veins.  His voice was hypnotic, deep and full of need as he demanded more, his hand back between her thighs, thumb circling her clit, three fingers buried deep inside of her.

She rose to her toes, riding his hand, hips jerking inelegantly, need overriding everything else.  “Fuck me Peeta…please.”  Her voice was hoarse, pleading.

“The truth,” he ground out against the skin of her neck, red and glistening from his mouth and teeth.  “Tell me the fucking truth and I’ll bury my cock so deep inside of your pussy you’ll die from the pleasure of it.”

She was sobbing, mindless – consumed.  The words spilled from her lips like water, falling into the tense silence, rippling outward.  “Seneca threatened you…you and Prim,” she panted.  “He told me you’d die…things happen in war zones…”  Her voice broke and she sobbed harshly.  “I couldn’t lose you.”

Peeta sat down heavily in the chair, turning her and pulling her unresisting body on top of him, her knees straddling his hips.  He held his cock, guiding it into her entrance, sliding home with a thick, heavy thrust, one hand splayed across her ribs, the other on her ass, guiding her into a firm, fast rhythm.

Katniss sobbed brokenly, riding him reckless and hard, one hand threading through his hair, and the other digging into the hard muscle of his thigh.  She couldn’t stop touching him, pressing her lips everywhere she could reach.  His lips met hers in a sloppy kiss that left them both gasping, their bodies straining towards completion.  Reaching between them, he held her gaze as his fingers found her clit, circling it hard.  She came with a high, keening cry, shudders rippling through her quaking body.  She trembled as wave after wave of aftershocks pulsed through her, feeling him stiffen beneath her as he followed her over the edge.

His arms slid around her, pulling her down so that she lay atop him, her head resting on his shoulder.  He stroked slowly over her back, murmuring nonsense as she sobbed against him.  “It’s over, Katniss.  I know the truth and he’s going to pay for what he did,” Peeta said softly.

She lifted her head, sorrow etched across her features.  “He can still hurt you,” she said softly.

“No, he can’t,” Peeta said firmly.  “The truth is going to come out, I promise you.”

She took another deep, hiccupping breath.  “Prim.”

“Is still safe, and if I need to move her from wherever you and Gale stashed her, I will.  Seneca isn’t going to hurt anyone I love again.”

Her lips curved in a tremulous smile.  “I wish I could believe you,” she whispered, her hand cupping his jaw, thumb brushing over his lips.

He slid his hand into her hair, pulling her down so they were a hairsbreadth apart.  “I keep my promises, sweetheart.  I promised you always, didn’t I?”

She nodded, biting her lip.  “You love me, real or not real?”

He smiled.  “Real.”


	7. point of no return

Katniss pulled into the driveway of the house in the Seam, squinting against the early morning sunshine.  It looked even worse than she remembered.  The porch was sagging, and the steps leading up to it were warping to the point that it was probably dangerous to even attempt to walk on them.

It didn’t matter though, this was her home, the one that had sheltered her and shaped her as a person.  This was the one place she could return to and blot out the mess that was the present, the place where she would always be Katniss Everdeen.

A truck pulled into the drive behind her car, and she turned, squinting against the early morning sun.  The truck wasn’t new, but it wasn’t the old beater that he’d used to have.  Sturdy and capable, the truck was everything Gale had become in the last ten years since high school.  She gave him a half hearted smile as he exited the truck and began to walk towards her, dark Seam eyes roving over the landscape constantly.

She hated that they still had to be so cautious.  Her nerves were strung so tightly that it was a wonder she hadn’t turned to drinking or something worse.  The other wives used pills and powders to keep their asses toned and suppress their appetites, but she couldn’t bring herself to go there, not after seeing her mother waste away, lost in a haze of grief and pills until there was nothing left of the woman she’d grown up with and loved.  Katniss sighed.  At least Prim hadn’t had to go through it as well.  She was safe and thriving, well out of the reach of Seneca’s grasping claws.

Gale walked up the rickety stairs and pulled out a keyring, opening the door and waiting, turning back to watch her.  Taking a deep breath, she walked up the stairs and into the house.  The silence surrounded her and she breathed it in, the tense set of her shoulders loosening just the tiniest bit.  Gale had scrounged furniture from somewhere, giving her a refuge if she’d needed it.  It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

Katniss walked over to the window, staring out at the thick woods behind the property.  Gale sprawled on the couch, tapping his fingers on the arm.  “So he knows.”

She leaned her forehead against the glass. “Every sordid detail,” Katniss said wearily.

Silence stretched for long moments before he broke it again.  “Did he forgive you?”

She laughed hollowly.  “Nothing to forgive.”  She turned around, her eyes empty.  “I did it to protect him and Prim.”

He met her gaze evenly.  “And me.”

She nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging on the corner of her lips.  “And you.”

Gale’s expression hardened.  “No one asked you to be a martyr, Katniss.”

Her cheeks flushed and she glared at him.  “He threatened the three people I love more than anything in this world.  What did you expect me to do?”

Gale broke first, gaze darting to the window, jaw clenched.  “Are you going to do it?”

Their eyes met again and this time it was Katniss that looked away first, seared by the raw pain and guilt in his eyes.  “I don’t know what good it’ll do, I’m his wife, and you know what that means in the eyes of the law.”  She walked to the fireplace, tracing her finger along the thick mantle.

She heard him rise up behind her, moving to the kitchen.  Glasses clinked and then he was back, sliding a small glass of clear liquid towards her.  “So quit being his wife.”

Katniss sighed, picking up the glass and swallowing the inch of liquid in it.  Fire burned down her throat and spread warmth through her stomach.  “Now you sound like Peeta,” she said as she set the glass back down.

“God forbid.”

Katniss laughed, glancing at him over her shoulder.  “He’d say the same of you.”

Gale snorted.  “He’s never going to be my best friend, Catnip, but he does have a point.  What’s keeping you there now that he’s back?”

Katniss turned around, her heart in her eyes.  “Prim still isn’t safe.”

Gale shook his head.  “Katniss, she’s never going to be safe.  Life isn’t safe, but she’s as close as she’ll ever get to being free from it all, Mellark’s money ensured that.”

Katniss shook her head.  “Please, we all know who wears the pants in the Mellark household, and it certainly isn’t Bradford.  If she decides to get nosy, Prim is right back in the midst of danger.”

“Why would she suddenly get nosy, Katniss?  It’s been years, and there’s been nothing, no trace of even a suggestion that they’re looking for her.”  His shoulders slumped.  “Besides, Rory would die to protect her.”

“They’re not going to go down without a fight, Gale.  These people, Seneca, Charlotte, Snow…they’ve been in power too long.”

“Peeta’s got some powerful allies, Katniss.”

Tears glistened in her eyes.  “And he’s also got some powerful enemies.”  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “Seneca _hates_ Peeta.  It’s completely irrational and stupid, but it’s also part of why he chose to force me into marrying him.”

“Katniss, you can’t keep trying to protect us.  It’s time for you to do what’s best for you, and let Peeta and I take care of ourselves.”

She wiped angrily at the tears that spilled down her cheeks.  “Yeah, that’s worked out so well for all of us.”

“Divorce him, Catnip, marry Peeta, or don’t, just do what makes you happy for once.”

“I wish it was that easy, Gale.”

~*~

“Where is your ring?”

Katniss looked up to see Seneca standing in the doorway of her dressing room, glaring down at her left hand.  She absently rubbed her thumb and index finger over the small tattoo that the ring normally hid, dropping her gaze to her hand.  “I lost a stone, so I sent it down to be fixed.”

His gaze narrowed as it latched onto the thin black line with the double knot that was inked into her skin.  “And I thought I told you to get rid of that damn tattoo.”

Katniss lifted her head, meeting his icy gaze coolly.  “And I told you no.”

“Careful, Katherine, you know what happens when you try to defy me, people get hurt.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes glittering dangerously.  “My name is Katniss and fuck you.”

He walked into the room, staring down at her.  The big muscle in his cheek ticked madly and she cringed as he lifted his fist, but held her ground.  “And if you hit me, I won’t be attending the Black and White Ball.  Your choice, Seneca, assuage your anger, or have your trophy.”

“You’re going to pay for that…later.”  He spun on his heel, tossing his next words over his shoulder.  “The limo will be here at eight, make sure you’re presentable by then.”

Katniss shook her head, turning her attention back to the small tattoo on her ring finger.  She’d gotten it right before Peeta had left for basic; to remind her what was important in her life.  Reaching out, she pulled open the drawer of her jewelry box, staring down at the glittering diamond of her wedding ring.  She’d lied to Seneca, it hadn’t lost any stones, she just couldn’t bear to wear it any longer.

Glancing at the clock, she closed the drawer and rose from the vanity seat, walking over to the gown hanging up on the hook on the door.  It was black raw silk, with draped cap sleeves and a slit that ran up to her thigh in the front.  The sweetheart bodice would cup her breasts and then fall to a sleek column to the floor.  Right on time, her prep team bustled into the room, laughing and chatting.  They surrounded her, Octavia pushing her gently back onto the chair, Flavius lifting her hair and tutting under his breath.  Venia reached for her hands, the manicure kit already open and ready to be put to work.  Katniss closed her eyes and let herself drift as they worked, knowing they’d make her shine.

~*~

The Black and White Ball was the biggest event of the Spring Season.  It gave the Capitol wives a chance to show off the latest fashions and gossip for hours over who wore what and who disappeared with whom.  While the supposed purpose was to raise money for charity, everyone knew the real reason behind it, it was the place to see and be seen.

Katniss stepped lightly out of the limo, grasping Seneca’s hand lightly as he posed and preened for the cameras.  His touch made her skin crawl and she was profoundly thankful for the long black gloves that served as a barrier between their skin.  They also served the purpose of hiding her bare ring finger and the questions it would inevitably raise.  Questions she wasn’t ready to answer – yet.

They walked slowly down the red carpet, mouthing well wishes and platitudes that neither of them meant, but were all part of the gladhanding and sucking up that being a politician and his wife in the Capitol entailed.

A roar of applause swept through the crowds standing watching, excited titters and several enthusiastic screams filled the night air as Finnick Odair stepped onto the carpet, resplendent in a fitted black tuxedo.  He paused dramatically, posing for the myriad cameras that swung his way, flashbulbs popping in a riot of retina burning light.

He caught up to them, posing dramatically with his arm around her waist, subtly nudging Seneca to the side as he playfully pressed a kiss to her cheek.  “Lovely to see you this evening, Mrs. Crane,” he said out of the side of his mouth, smile wide as the paparazzi went crazy.

“Thank you, Mr. Odair, but I really had no idea you even knew who I was?” Katniss gave him her most bland smile.  She knew better than to act surprised and let the paps see, but inside she was stunned.  What the fuck was going on?

His hand tightened briefly on her waist and his lips barely brushed her ear as he pulled away.  “Our mutual friend asked me to introduce myself, just in case.”  With that cryptic statement, for her ears alone, he moved off down the carpet, pausing briefly to chat with the people lining the runner and of course the press.

Seneca grabbed her arm roughly, his fingers tightening to the point of pain.  “What the fuck was that?” he hissed through clenched teeth, maintaining the insipid grin he’d perfected over the years.

“He was just saying hello,” Katniss replied softly.  “And you’re hurting me.”

He squeezed tighter and she fought to keep from wincing as they finally exited the carpet and stepped onto the wide, sweeping stairs of the hotel where the event was being held.  “Is he the one you’ve been fucking?”

She darted a shocked look at him, her stomach churning hotly as he smirked smugly back at her.  “Didn’t think I knew about that, did you?”

“I…”  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but gape at him stupidly.  He all but dragged her up the stairs, smiling and waving to the people that surrounded them.

“Wipe that stupid expression off of your face,” he snarled under his breath as they approached the entrance to the ballroom.  “We’ll discuss it later, but you should know, my dear sweet _wife_ , secrets are not your forte.”

The second they entered the ballroom, he left her alone.  She was shaking, nauseated with fear.  She walked along the length of the ballroom, smiling politely and stopping just long enough that no one would get suspicious, but she couldn’t stay in this room, not with Seneca’s bombshell hanging over her head.

“Katniss.”

She stopped in her tracks, her head swiveling around to see who’d said her name, her real name, heart lurching as she saw Peeta leaning against a pillar, a heavy tumbler of dark amber liquid in his hand.  Her eyes widened and she shook her head imperceptibly.  She couldn’t, not now.

Finnick Odair came to her rescue, smoothly sliding his hand along her waist and leading her onto the dance floor, guiding her unresisting body into the moves of the waltz that was playing.  His face showed nothing but playfulness, but his tone was anything but as he spoke lowly.  “Chin up, my girl, can’t let them see you sweat.”

Her hand clenched in his and he whirled them around the dance floor, smoothly covering up her faltering steps.  She stared up at him in shock, her mind still whirling.

He grinned, as if she’d said something supremely hilarious and spun her into yet another turn, moving closer and closer to the edge of the swirling crush of dancers.  “Your husband won’t come after me, I’ve got more supporters than he does, which is exactly why I was sent to you this evening.”  Sea green eyes met hers and she blinked rapidly, realizing that Peeta had known this was coming.  A tentative smile teased at her lips.  Finnick nodded.  “That’s right, beautiful girl, keep doing that and this will be all over before you know it.  He wants you to know that he will keep you safe, and you don’t have to worry about your sister either, she’s been moved to somewhere secure and she’ll contact you in the morning on the phone you’re going to find in your vanity drawer.”

“How?”

The smile he gave her was the first one that looked genuine.  “My dear, you don’t think we haven’t been planning things?”  His expression sobered.  “Your husband won’t have a chance to hurt you again, after this evening is finished.  Our friend wanted me to tell you that as well.  He keeps his promises, sweetheart.”

Katniss’ hand clenched his shoulder tightly, silent as she digested what he’d said.  “What do I do?”  Her voice was soft, and filled with questions she couldn’t ask.

“You do what you’ve been doing, play the game.”  Finnick whirled her around again, spinning her out along his outstretched arm and then curling her back into his chest, his lips against her ear.  “It’ll be over tonight, at least for you.”

The music ended before she could ask him what that meant.  He bowed gallantly to her and held out his arm to escort her from the dance floor.  As soon as they reached the edge, scores of women surrounded him, slowly and steadily edging Katniss away from him until she stood outside the circle, looking in to where Finnick stood, smiling suavely and flirting with the women that were fawning over him.

Katniss felt warmth at her back, and a soft voice spoke directly into her ear. “You look beautiful.”

 _Peeta_.  His voice made everything fade away, so that it was only the two of them here.  She wanted this to be over, so badly.  She wanted to be able to wake up next to him in the morning, after they'd spent the night making love.  She wanted...so much.  Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked rapidly, fighting them back.  Lifting her head, she turned it just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.  “Thank you.”

She saw him smile and it filled her with a sweet rush of joy.  Things weren’t going to stay the way they were, this was the start of something different, without secrets and pain between them.  His voice was thick and deep when he spoke once more.  “I love you.”

She gasped, eyes closing briefly.  She felt his fingers on her arm, just above the line of her glove, ghosting over her skin before he was gone, moving through the crowd.


	8. One night in Panem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has been forever in coming, but life just kept getting in the way. We're almost to the end.
> 
> Huge thanks go out to Court and to Survivewithoutanyone for their encouragement and prodding. This chapter is dedicated to the lovely ladies that I had the pleasure of spending time with last weekend - Forthegenuine, SupersudzyissecretlyMellark, AquarPisc and Survivewithoutanyone. Thank you for a fantastic time and making me feel welcome!

Pieces in the game, that’s all they were.  Peeta looked out at the milling crowd and sighed.  This wasn’t the life he wanted, but did anyone really get what they wanted?  Had his father stood just like this and wondered the same thing?  He couldn’t imagine that life with Charlotte was something his father would’ve chosen – they were nearly complete opposites.  Brantford’s mistress Tilda was warm and nurturing, two words that never would be used to describe Charlotte.  Brantford may have preferred Tilda’s company, but he still maintained the façade, that he and Charlotte were a power couple, united in their goals for the future and their only son.

Lifting his glass to his lips, he drank deeply, nearly emptying the tumbler of the whiskey that seemed to be the only thing helping to keep him on an even keel this evening.  Seeing Katniss with Seneca and knowing things were coming to a head were enough to drive him insane.  His fingers tightened on the glass.  He was going to kill that fucker, sooner rather than later.  The entire ballroom had seen him gripping her arm hard enough to leave bruises after Finnick had approached her.  That was one battle he was going to fight himself – Boggs and his plan be damned.  He was fucking tired of seeing the one person he truly loved be manhandled by that piece of shit.  Seneca would never touch her again, he’d make certain of it.

A soft touch at his shoulder had him turning, stomach twisting as he met the cool blue eyes of his fiancée.  “Glimmer,” he said tightly, nodding his head towards her.

“Peeta,” she replied, equally as chilly.  “Father would like to speak to you.”

Skin crawling, Peeta lifted his gaze to where President Snow stood behind his daughter.  The cloying scent of roses oozed from him and with his puffy lips and overdone makeup job, he looked like a caricature.  “Mr. President.”

Coriolanus Snow chuckled, nodding his head slightly.  “Come now Peeta, we’re going to be family, surely you can call me by my first name?”

Peeta smiled, the gesture not reaching his eyes.  “Coriolanus, of course.”

Glimmer stepped back, discretely leaving the two of them alone.  Snow followed her with his gaze until she was firmly out of earshot before turning his watery brown eyes back to Peeta, sizing him up silently.  Time to play his part; to make the moves that had been orchestrated since this whole farce of a marriage had been brought up. 

“Glimmer’s done a wonderful job organizing the benefit.”

Snow’s lips barely curved into a semblance of a smile.  “Yes, my daughter is very good at what she does; she’ll be an excellent helpmate for you in the future.”

Sick to his stomach at the words he was forced to say, Peeta managed to maintain his polite mask.  “I’m very much looking forward to having a relationship like my parents do.”

Snow chuckled.  “Your mother has always been such an… _ardent_ supporter.  You must give her my regards; I didn’t see her here this evening?”

 _I just bet she has been._ Peeta stared impassively at the man that had controlled too many lives for the past twenty years.  His mother had made no bones about the fact that she was ambitious and would do anything to further those ambitions.  Revulsion made his stomach churn as he realized just how _ardently_ his mother has supported Snow and quite likely still did.  “Mother thought it prudent to work on the guest list, what with the wedding only a month away.”

“Ah yes, the wedding of the season, isn’t that what the society mavens are calling it?”

Peeta shrugged lightly.  Honestly, he could give a shit what the vultures were calling it, for him it was a necessary evil to endure until he finally took down Seneca and Snow.  He just hoped Boggs got what he needed before he actually had to walk down the aisle with Glimmer.  It was all he could to stomach her touch in public – the thought of actually touching her, fucking her – made his skin crawl.  The only woman he wanted in his bed for the rest of his life was Katniss.  “I guess, I just nod and write the checks, Mother and Glimmer are doing most of the work.”

Snow laughed, reaching up to wipe his lip with his handkerchief.  “Best way, really.  Leave it in the hands of the ones that know what they’re doing.”

“And that leaves us to take care of the real business,” Peeta said carefully, watching Snow’s expression.

The older man gave him a crafty look that morphed instantly into a tepid smile.  “Well yes, now that you mention it.  Statecraft is best left in the hands of those who can handle it.”

“I’d like to learn from the best,” Peeta said, offering up a bland smile of his own.

Snow’s gaze sharpened and Peeta felt his heart rate speed up.  He’d played this game of chicken during the war and gotten damn good at it.  Dealing with a hostile native population that wanted to kill you wasn’t any more dangerous than what he was doing right now.

“I’ve had my eye on you, since you came back from service,” Snow said thoughtfully.  “I was very pleased when your father proposed allying our houses.  You’ve got a bright future ahead of you Peeta, should you choose to embrace your destiny.”

“It’s what I most desire in the world,” Peeta said softly.  Another soft touch on his arm had him turning, Glimmer’s gaze sliding over him.  “Yes?”

She smiled prettily and turned to her father.  “Father, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Plutarch has been asking for you and I know you wished to speak to him this evening.”  Her voice trailed off, lilting just so at the end to turn the statement into a question.

Snow nodded, clearing his throat.  “Yes, of course.  Peeta, you will excuse me?”

“Certainly, I’ll just take Glimmer for a spin around the dance floor; I haven’t spent any time with her this evening.”

Peeta waited until Snow had moved off to turn towards Glimmer.  He found her watching him with a bemused expression.  She was such an incongruity, demure and innocent in her dress but dripping with sensuality and sexual heat.  The white dress she wore had a respectable neckline and a long, sweeping skirt that brushed the floor and on anyone else would’ve looked chaste, on her looked devastatingly sinful.  Her gaze was predatory, filled with a carnality that disgusted him as much as it affected him. “What?”

“You do realize eventually you will have to touch me,” she said, amusement coloring her tone.  “And fuck me.”

He stared back coolly, tamping down on his body’s traitorous reaction to her blatant sexuality.  “Your point?”

Glimmer laughed and reached for his hand, walking backwards towards the dance floor, threading their fingers together.  “It’s not like you’re my type either, Peeta,” she said as they moved together, fitting their bodies into position for the waltz.  Her gaze flitted off to the side and he followed it, seeing a tall, hulking blond man glowering at them.  Peeta turned his face back to her and lifted a brow in silent question.  Glimmer sighed, the insipid smile she’d pasted on when they’d stepped onto the dance floor still firmly in place.  “We grew up together and I knew I’d have to marry strategically, but he really thought I’d choose him over my father’s wishes.”

Peeta frowned slightly.  The reality of life in the Capitol came slamming down on him with her words.  They’d never had a choice; they’d always been pieces in this fucking game.  Pawns to be used to further the power of the biggest players, crushed if they didn’t comply.  “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Tired of what?”  Her eyes found his and he sighed at the incomprehension in her gaze.

“Living this way, playing the damn game.”

She shrugged.  “It’s my life.”

“You can change it.”

“Why would I want to?  I know my place and frankly I like it.  I have nice things; I won’t be expected to pop out child after child just to support my family.”  Her smile became genuine for a moment.  “ I don’t even have to work, because you’re going to do that.  I don’t expect you to be faithful to me and I won’t be faithful to you, because that’s how Capitol marriages work.”

Peeta shook his head sadly.  “And that’s okay with you?  You want me to go out and sleep with someone else while you do the same?”

Glimmer laughed brightly.  “You mean you don’t want to?”  Her expression turned shrewd.  “We all know what Seneca took from you, Peeta.  You’re telling me that you’re going to marry me and stay faithful?  I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way you go out of your way not to touch me for too long, are you really going to stand there and tell me that’s how you want this to work?”  Her nails drummed lightly on his forearm as she stared up at him, a coy smile teasing her lips.  Peeta’s gaze darted to where Katniss was slowly moving around the dance floor in the arms of one of Seneca’s toadies and he sighed in frustration.  “Look,” he said, whirling her around so that they were on the far edge of the ballroom, away from the press and the other vultures that watched them avidly.  “You said yourself I wasn’t your first choice.  Don’t you want to be married to someone who loves you and wants to make love to you and not just fuck for procreation?”

She let loose with another bright peal of laughter.  “You really are an idealist, aren’t you?  I don’t know what you think you can do to change things, but this is how it’s worked for a long time.  Your children will be yours, which is the only guarantee you’re going to get.”

“What if that’s not good enough?”

Her gaze narrowed.  “Careful, Mellark.  You’re on the verge of talking treason.“  She stepped back out of his arms, “to the daughter of the President.”

“I’m talking to my fiancée,” he clarified, fingers tightening lightly on her hip.  “The woman who’s going to share my bed, my life…” his voice dropped to low growl, “my secrets.”

Her brow arched and she shook her head.  “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

His smile was feral.  “Aren’t we all?”

~*~

Peeta leaned against a pillar, a full tumbler of whiskey in his hand.  He’d lost count of how many he’d had.  Five, ten, twenty?  What the fuck did it matter, things were coming to a head and he was tired.  Fucking tired of the lies and the bullshit and every slimebag asshole that he’d had to be polite to over the past year.  The enemy had changed, it wasn’t brainwashed fundamentalists with more guns than sense that he was fighting in this battle, but the stakes were the same.  His life was on the line – not only his but the woman he loved and wanted a future with and if there was one thing he’d learned in seven years of war, it was that you fought for what you wanted with everything you had.

Lifting the glass to his lips, he drank deeply, gaze scanning the ballroom.  His heart clenched as Katniss whirled by with Cinna, the designer that had taken the Capitol by storm this year.  Peeta slowly lowered his glass and stared as they moved around the floor; the man’s understated elegance the perfect foil for her simple beauty.

She was what important, nothing else was.  He’d give it all up in a heartbeat if she asked, but she wouldn’t.  It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to do so.   He laughed mirthlessly.  Katniss thought that by sacrificing her life and freedom to Seneca and Snow’s machinations that they wouldn’t go after the people she loved, but she was wrong.  Safety was an illusion – their entire world was an illusion.  A glittering smokescreen thrown up to hide the gritty ugliness that ran just beneath the surface.  It looked like perfection, but peel back that thin layer of civility and the shit, blood and decay oozed out.

Peeta snapped to attention as two people flanked her and Cinna, their matching black pantsuits all but screaming their profession.  The woman had red streaks in her hair and a wicked glint in her eyes as she coldly scanned the ballroom, flanking her tall, blond partner as he spoke to Katniss, his eyes also roving over the assembled guests as he did so.

He watched as they led her off towards the back of the ballroom and the service entrance that was hidden behind the thick black curtains on the walls.  Fucking finally!  Boggs had told him that he’d be sending a team to get her to safety before they took Seneca down, holding up his end of the deal.  He’d take her testimony and then place her in the safe house that Peeta had personally inspected yesterday afternoon after another long, winding drive and phone call on the throw away phone that had become his lifeline.

As they disappeared behind the curtains, he felt the phone in his breast pocket vibrate.  Pulling it out, he let a small smile creep onto his face as he read the text.  She was safe; Seneca would never hurt her again.  Tucking the phone back into his pocket, he set the tumbler down on one of the roving waiter’s trays and straightened his cuffs, smile widening with every step he took towards the stairs that Seneca had disappeared up twenty minutes ago with a tiny blonde in tow.

~*~

“Do you know what I learned while in the military, Seneca, while you were sitting your pansy ass back here sucking on daddy’s teat?”

Peeta’s fist cracked solidly against Seneca’s jaw, sending the slighter man stumbling to the ground.  The girl that he’d found him with squeaked and tugged her dress up higher trying desperately to cover her bare torso, fumbling clumsily at the door handle, eyes wide with fear.  Peeta turned his head slightly to glare at her, jerking his head sharply.  She paled and her hand finally curled around the knob, pulling it open and darting outside.  The door slammed shut behind her and Peeta smiled, turning his attention back towards Seneca, who was shaking his head, wiping at the blood dripping down his nose with a shaky hand. “There are twenty-five ways to kill someone with your bare hands.” Peeta said softly, cracking his knuckles as he walked towards where Seneca lay on the floor.  “Six of those could look accidental.”

 Seneca paled, scrabbling backwards, crablike.  “You wouldn’t dare!” he said shakily.  “You’ll be arrested…imprisoned!”

Peeta closed the distance between them with a menacing smile.  “Do I look like I give a fuck?  You laid your hands on her, Seneca and now I’m going to return the favor.”  His fists landed heavily, the low thump of flesh hitting flesh blocking out everything else.  Blood and teeth flew but Peeta never stopped, landing punch after punch on the smaller man until he collapsed on the floor, curled up in a ball.  Dropping to his knees, Peeta gathered Seneca’s shirtfront in his hands and began to methodically beat the other man’s head against the floor.  “I’m going to give you ten times the pain you put her through, you sick, twisted fuck,” Peeta snarled, each word punctuated with another thump against the marble floor.

The door behind him flew open, smacking back against the wall. “Mellark!”

Peeta glanced up, knuckles bloody and bruised, fisted tightly in the ruined tuxedo shirt.  Seneca moaned beneath him and he shoved him away in disgust.  Boggs came fully into the room, closing the door gently behind him.  His expression was somber as he stared at the ruin of the man on the floor.  “Feel better?”

Peeta cursed under his breath and stood, raking a shaky hand through his hair, leaving behind a smear of blood on his forehead.  “What do you want Boggs?”

“There’s been an incident.”

Seneca wheezed on the floor.  “If I can’t have her, neither can you.”

Peeta spun around, dropping to his knees to grab him once more, shaking him hard.  “What the fuck did you do, Seneca?”

The smaller man began to laugh, blood bubbling on his lips as the cackling sounds filled the room.  “I warned you, Peeta, to stay away from what was mine,” he said as he collapsed backwards, eyes rolling back into his head.


	9. Dark Horse

Peeta went very still.  “What kind of accident?”  He turned to look at Boggs, his face a blank mask as he rose from his crouch over the ruined man on the floor.  If there was one thing his mother had taught him well, it was to hide what he was truly thinking, something that had served his time in the Capitol well.

Boggs sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand.  “Katniss is missing, along with two of my best agents.”

The words he didn't say hung in the air. _Presumed dead_

“And you’re doing what about it?”  Pulling a pristine white handkerchief out of his inner breast pocket, he walked over to the well-stocked bar in the corner of the room to grab some water.  Opening the cap, he wet the material and began to dab at his knuckles.  It hurt like a sonofabitch, but again, he refused to let it show, lifting his gaze to the stocky man across the room from him, lifting a brow in question. His heart was racing a million miles per minute and it took every ounce of self control that he possessed to not stalk over and shake the man until he told him what he knew.

 

~*~

 

Peeta jammed the key into the lock, twisting it viciously.  When the tumblers clicked, he shoved open the door, uncaring that it bounced off the wall and left a mark.  Raking his hand through his already disheveled hair, he sighed and stalked into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

The darkness surrounded him, swallowing him as he walked through the empty rooms.  It suited his mood at the moment – sullen and malevolent.  The need for violence simmered just beneath his skin, pulsating with every beat of his heart.

His shoes made clicking noises against the expensive tile in the hallway as he walked towards the kitchen – click, drag, click, drag.  Taking down Seneca, while worth it, had made his leg ache, a pulsing numbness spreading outwards from the mortar wound, forcing his foot to drag as he walked.  Stepping into the kitchen, he reached for the switch.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the silence, his heart thundering in his chest.  Soft and feminine, yet laced with steel edged intent.  His hand moved slowly back down to his side and he stood still – all senses alert as his military training rose to the forefront, forcing everything aside.

Light flared to his left, and he squinted, raising one hand to shade against the glare.  He couldn’t make out much, the light leaving him temporarily blinded.  The soft snick of a gun being cocked caught his attention and he stiffened, cursing under his breath for not being prepared for this eventuality.

“Who are you and why the fuck are you in my house?” he asked with blunt bravado, pivoting towards the light.

“I’ll ask the questions.  She’s alive but that can change depending upon your actions.”

He inhaled sharply, reaching out for the counter, hoping that he’d left something – anything really that could be used as a weapon, but it was as pristine and bare as the rest of the kitchen.

“Walk towards the light, slowly.”  He stopped his desperate search and pushed up off the counter, following her directions.

“That’s far enough.”

Her voice wasn’t familiar, rough and deep, it sounded like she had a pack a day habit at the least.  The pool of light from the lamp barely touched his shoes.  His eyes had adjusted to the light and as his gaze slid over the hard edged woman sitting in his chair, a gun resting lightly in her lap, he realized who she was.

“Word on the street is you’re dead.”

She laughed - a deep throaty sound that had no humor in it at all.  “Funny you should say that, given that you could be the one that tried to make it happen.”

He shook his head.  “Not me, you were protecting the one thing on this planet that’s important to me, why the fuck would I want to take you out?”

Agent Johanna Mason shrugged her thin shoulders lightly, the light glinting off of the red streaks in her stark bangs.  “It’s politics, Mellark.  Everyone’s dirty in some way or another.”

“Is Katniss alright?”

She tilted her head slightly.  “For now.”

Peeta’s blood went cold.  He knew Snow’s claws went deep, but he’d thought at least Bogg’s detail was clean.  “What do you want, Agent Mason?”

Shaking her head, she lifted the gun, studying it.  “I’m not for sale, Representative Mellark.”

“Good to know, Agent Mason,” he said carefully.  “But you’re here for a reason, right?”

Johanna flipped her wrist and pointed the muzzle directly at his chest.  “I am.”  She motioned to the sofa.  “Sit down.”

Peeta sat carefully on the couch, ass barely on the cushion, bracing himself to be able to move in a heartbeat if this went to shit.

Mason stared at him, a sly smile tugging at her lips.  “Crane is dead, Boggs is nearly so and you’re in deep shit, boyo.”

“I just left Boggs,” Peeta said quickly.

Mason laughed coldly.  “Shit happens fast in this town, but again, you should know that, you’re the politician after all.”

Tension ripped through his gut like a hot knife through butter.  He hadn’t wanted any of this!  All he’d _ever_ wanted was to live his life with the woman that meant more to him than air.

Another voice rose from the darkness that cloaked the house like a shroud, the hard gravelly tones making Peeta’s blood run cold.  “Do you remember when I told you thing were going to be bad?  This ain’t even the worst of it yet, boy.”

Peeta’s head slowly swiveled towards the left.  “You used me,” he said flatly as his eyes found the wasted form of Haymitch Abernathy staring back at him, a full glass of something in his hand.  Knowing Haymitch, it was a glass of the best of Peeta’s meager liquor cabinet.

A harsh bark of laughter met his words.  “Did you really expect otherwise?”  His tone was mocking and edged with steel.  “This is an ugly game, boy, and no one ever wins.”

Peeta’s voice was cold, all emotion stripped bare and buried deep.  Now, more than ever he needed to be ice cold.  No weaknesses to exploit.  “Then why play?”

Another bark of laughter, even more mocking than the first.  “Cause it’s the only game in town.”

 

~*~

 

Peeta paced his cavernous house, a half full glass of whiskey held loosely in his hand, the empty rooms mocking him with angry silence.  His unexpected company had departed, with several warnings to lay low and another of the ubiquitous black phones.

How had his life come to this?  When he’d left the hell of war with its rain of blood and atrocities so horrific that they turned people into sick, mutated versions of themselves, he’d thought he’d never have to deal with something so horrible again.  It was over, or at least he thought it was, left behind when he’d left the battlefield.  The memories were bad enough – shiny, warped images that hijacked his dreams and sometimes even bled into his waking hours, leaving him shaking and drenched with sweat, eyes staring blankly as the horror show paraded past his retinas.

It was the war all over again, played out on a more luxurious battlefield.  He was a piece in a vicious, ugly game that had no winners – only walking wounded survivors.

Snow had to pay for his crimes – evil that pervasive had no place in the civilized world.  Hell, it had no place in any world.  He was like the Hydra, cut off one miserable excuse of a head and two more came back, just as ugly and twisted as the first.

Lifting his drink with a shaky hand, he downed the amber liquid, barely feeling the warmth spreading through him.  Fear drew icy tendrils around his heart, as he thought of Katniss, alone and hurt, not knowing where he was or if he was in on the plot to attack her.  She couldn’t think that he’d hurt her, not after all they’d been through together.  Spinning, he flung the empty glass at the wall, watching as it shattered against the wall, raining glass down onto the floor.

Sick with disgust, he wandered outside, sitting down on the perfectly manicured yard.  The trees and flowers had been carefully chosen to give an artful appearance to the yard, but he saw none of it, his gaze drawn to the house across the way, blazing brightly with lights.  Seneca’s house, the one he played perfect family man in with Katniss.  It didn’t look like a family house tonight though.  People milled about on the lawn, spotlights shining brightly, illuminating every crack and crevice.  More people moved inside the house, silhouetted against the bright lights like ants in a terrarium, dissecting the lives of the two people that had inhabited it.

The house looked normal, which felt odd.  It should have looked different – destroyed as thoroughly as Seneca had destroyed lives -a raging torrent of ugliness, sweeping everything from it like a tsunami, leaving only broken flotsam in its wake.

Peeta sighed deeply, his mind a jumble of random thoughts, tumbling endlessly in his head – fragmented, disjointed.  His life had been so perfectly planned, laid out in a neat, methodical path.  Do his duty to his country and then come home and live his life with the woman he loved more than life itself.  But it’d all gone so wrong.  Almost from the day he’d left her, fighting back tears as he’d boarded the airplane that would take him away from her.

He never should have told his mother he was going to marry Katniss, shouting it at her as her poisonous vitriol spewed, thick and viscous.  She’d made it her life’s mission from that moment forward to ruin any happiness they might’ve found together.  It’d never made sense before, until tonight when Haymitch had told him the truth about his parent’s marriage, how Snow had turned her aside in favor of a political match, despite their growing up together and being inseparable all through school.  It was Snow that had told her to marry Branford Mellark, convinced her that it was in both of their best interests.

It was amazing, really, that Peeta had managed to get Prim safely out of his mother’s clutches.  She’d known instinctively that the fastest way to break Katniss would be through her sister.  For the first time in his life, his father had stood up and been the man Peeta had always believed he could be.  The money he’d fronted had paved the way for Prim and Rory to be hidden, never to be found by Charlotte or Snow.

Peeta sighed again, scrubbing his face with his hands.  He needed more alcohol, more something – anything that could numb his mind and let him forget, for just one second how fucked he truly was.  His failures played like a bad movie, one right after the other, piling up until he couldn’t breathe for the weight of them.  So lost in his misery, he never heard the soft scuff of footsteps on the grass, never saw the arm rise, the thick baton delivering the blow that rendered him unconscious.

 

~*~

 

“Mr. Mellark, how good of you to join us.”

 

Peeta blinked painfully, squinting against the harsh light. He blinked again, the room coming into blurry focus.   His head hurt like hell and his tongue felt thick in his mouth, like he’d been breathing through his mouth all night long.  He tried to lift his hand to rub at his eyes, but it was tied firmly to the wooden arm of the chair he was sitting in.  A quick glance at his other arm found it just as tightly bound.  The pain in his thigh told him that he’d been in this position for a while, ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

“Water, for our guest.  We mustn’t be rude, after all.”  Coriolanus Snow’s dulcet tones were measured, never hinting at the malice that shone in his gaze as Peeta lifted his head, meeting his icy gaze.

Water smacked him in the face, the shocking cold making his breath hitch.  Shaking his head, he blinked water out of his eyes, fighting against the ropes that held him tightly.

“Please struggle, it makes this so much more entertaining.”

“Fuck you,” Peeta muttered.

“Tch, Mr. Mellark, stooping to vulgarity already?”

“What do you want, Snow?” Peeta said, glaring as he leaned back as far as he could in the unyielding chair.

“For you to die, Mr. Mellark,” Snow said, steepling his fingers as he sat down in the chair one of his underlings placed before Peeta.  “But not until we talk, of course.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that it's been ages since I've updated, and I really have no excuse. I will try to be more timely with the updates, but if anything, life has only gotten busier and my free time for writing has been severely curtailed. I do intend to finish this story, there's not many chapters left and I can't write anything without a happy ending, so I won't leave it like this forever.


	10. Heartbreak Overload

Peeta spit out another mouthful of blood and laid his head down on the rough concrete floor of his cell. Snow’s words ran through his head, making his blood run cold even now, hours after the fact.

 

_I wanted a matched set, but alas, she escaped.  No matter, I have you Mr. Mellark, to assuage my anger on._

You have a remarkable talent for avoiding telling me what I wish to know, Mr. Mellark.”

“So glad I can be of service,” Peeta mumbled incoherently past his swollen lip and aching jaw, wincing as his tongue scraped across the raw flesh.

“I’m certain Mrs. Crane finds your wit delightful, however, it is of no use to you here.”  Cornelius Snow flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his pristine white suit and circled the hard wooden chair that Peeta was currently tied to.  “This could go a lot easier on you if you would just cooperate.”

Peeta lifted his head with effort, staring at his tormenter out of the slit of his right eye, the other swollen completely shut.  He swallowed hard, tasting blood as he did so.  _“I thought I was cooperating.”_   The words echoed in his head but what came out was a garbled mess, not one intelligible.  His shoulders lifted in a pained shrug, lips tightening as pain lanced through his wrenched shoulders.  He twisted his wrists in the thick plastic restraints, feeling the slick pulse of blood coat his hands as the ties bit deeply into his swollen flesh.

The white helmeted goon standing beside his chair popped him in the jaw, the rough sound of leather meeting flesh almost obliterating the cracking sound.  Peeta’s head snapped to the side and he wheezed, blood and spittle bubbling on his lips as he fought to breathe through the pain.  His mind spun, a red haze blanking his vision.

“Insolent!” Snow’s voice whipped through the room, making the technician manning the machine beside Peeta’s chair jump.  Snow glared at the white coated technician and the man paled, swaying on his feet.   Hissing through his teeth, Snow minced closer, mindful not to step in the reeking puddle of blood and vomit beneath Peeta’s feet. “Surely you don’t believe that anyone will rescue you?  I’ve taken care of Mr. Boggs and his ridiculous lawsuit.  Seneca is dead at your hands, or so the press and the police believe and his wife is gravely injured and presumed dead.  Who is left, Mr. Mellark?”  Snow snapped his fingers and the wall behind his back began to separate, revealing a room remarkably similar to the one that they were in.  Peeta struggled to keep his head up, pain pounding through him like a hammer.  A woman sat on a chair just like his, bound with ropes that had once been white but were so dark a red that they looked stained.  Her blonde hair was bare stubble across her head, deep furrows and burn marks scarring the once perfectly maintained skin.  “Certainly not your family.  They couldn’t sell you out fast enough.  Your mother begged for her life,” Snow said placidly, stepping back and gazing through the thin pane of glass that separated the two rooms.  “Shrieked to the heavens, promising me whatever I wanted if I would just spare her.”  His gaze cut to where Peeta sat, his head slumping forward once more on his chest.

“I… coptg,” Peeta mumbled, the worlds garbled by his rapidly swollen jaw.  The last round of beatings this morning had nearly broken it and the punch from the guard had finished the job.  He could feel the bones sliding against one another, wave after wave of agonizing pain radiating through his broken body.

Forcing the thoughts of the pain aside, he settled his mind on Katniss, as she’d been at the ball.  Christ, she’d looked so amazingly beautiful, it was a wonder he hadn’t beaten every man that tried to touch her.  He’d never been able to fight the urge to touch her and despite the danger they were in, he couldn’t resist sliding his finger along the smooth curve of her bare shoulder, delighting in the way that her skin pebbled.  When she’d turned to look at him, it’d taken every ounce of willpower he possessed not to sweep her into his arms and stride from the room, tossing caution to the wind.  He’d beaten it back with the heady knowledge that after tonight they wouldn’t have to hide any longer. 

Peeta sobbed quietly, tears spilling over his bloody cheeks.  It had been the perfect plan – so of course it hadn’t worked.  Snow’s voice was low and full of menace but the words didn’t even register any longer.  The dull monotone went in one ear and out the other; unable to compete with the heart wrenching loss that was consuming him.  Katniss was likely dead, and if she wasn’t yet, if Snow ever got his hands on her, she would be in short order.

Blackness crowded his vision and he followed it willingly, the agony and pain in his wrecked body dissipating as he slid into the void.

 

~*~

 

“You can’t just leave him there!”  Katniss spun around and pinned the group sitting at the small conference table with a fierce glare.  “Snow will kill him!”

“We’re working on it sweetheart,” Haymitch said, scrubbing his face with his hand.  “Boggs’ team finally got us a lead.”

“He’s had him for nearly a month, Haymitch, for all I know he’s already dead!”

“Our intel says no,” the portly man to the left of Haymitch said, flipping through a folder filled with papers.  “He’s still alive as of this morning, him and Mason both.”

Katniss sank into the chair, her fingers grasping the edge of the table.  “That was hours ago,” she breathed heavily, blinking back the haze of tears that threatened to consume her.

Every day for the past month, she’d sat at this table, listening to the arguing and the reports, knowing that with each day passing, Peeta slipped further and further away from her.

Every word they’d ever spoken, every gesture, every slide of his body against hers played in her head, repeating in an endless loop that dragged her further and further into despair.  She should have left sooner; she should have trusted him more.  Every mistake she’d ever made haunted her, wrapped her in guilt and madness until she barely knew how to be alive.  She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but stare blankly at walls, lost in the ugly miasma of guilt.

“You have to trust us.”

Katniss peered up at Haymitch through bleary eyes, her gut churning.  “Trust you,” she sneered.  “You’re the reason he’s where he is!”  Her chair spun crazily as she shoved to her feet, hands shooting out randomly as her words fell like bullets.  “He trusted you and look where the fuck it got him!”

“We weren’t expecting a traitor in our midst.”

Her gaze swung to the other man in the room, placidly turning the pages of the report in front of him.    He lifted his head and met her angry glare steadily, folding his hands atop the pile of papers.

Katniss leaned down, slapping her hands against the metal table.  “Fuck you too, Heavensbee.  For all I fucking know, this is another one of your little games, to get as much dirt on Snow as you can.”

Plutarch Heavensbee shook his head sadly.  “We have enough on Snow to bury him until the sun burns out.  This is no game, Mrs. Crane.”

“Don’t,” Katniss said, lip quivering even as her voice came out laced with steel.  “Don’t call me that.  My name is Everdeen.”

“Unfortunately,” Heavensbee started, sitting back in alarm as Katniss reached for the pen laying on the table next to him and brandished it at his neck.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t helping.  Plutarch is on our side, you don’t have to threaten him.”  Haymitch gently closed his hand around hers, pushing it back down to the table, prizing apart her fingers until she released the pen.  “We’ll get him out.”

Plutarch cleared his throat as his phone dinged.  He stood up and walked to the far side of the room, keeping one eye on Katniss as he accepted the call.

Haymitch turned Katniss towards him.  “Finn is in the other room, why don’t you go sit with him.  He’s going out of his mind over Johanna, same as you are for Peeta.”

Katniss nodded, glaring once more over her shoulder.  “I’ll go, but just know that I don’t trust him and I never will.  He’s one of them, Haymitch.  Don’t ever forget that.”

Haymitch nodded, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.  “I won’t, I promise.”

 

~*~

 

Katniss walked into the silent room, eyes darting quickly around before settling on the man hunched over on the couch.  He was twisting something in his hands, mumbling softly under his breath.

Taking a deep breath, she walked across the room and sat down, perching lightly on the edge of the cushion.  “Hi,” she breathed, turning to look at him.  Finnick Odair had certainly had better days.  His thick, chestnut hair was in complete disarray, standing up in greasy chunks.  His sea green eyes were sunken in his head, red rimmed and bloodshot.  Auburn stubble ghosted over his jaw and his clothes looked like he’d slept in them for a week.  He looked exactly like she felt.  He held a short length of rope in his hands, knotting and unknotting it over and over again.

“It’s no use arguing with them,” Finnick said, twisting his length of rope again, fingers nimbly undoing the complicated knot that he’d just finished.  “They’re going to do what they want and fuck what we want.”

Katniss leaned back against the sofa, closing her eyes as tears pricked once more.  “I can’t just sit here.”

Finnick reached into his coat pocket, pulling out another short length of rope.  “Here, it helps,” he said, offering it up to her.

Katniss took the rope from him, twining it through her fingers.  The rough hemp scraped her skin, leaving it red and raw.  The barest ghost of a smile touched her lips.  Good, the outside should match the inside.  She tied a knot and then another, pulling the rope taut and loosening it, over and over in a monotonous routine, numbing her mind.

They worked in silence, tying and untying knots until her fingers were bleeding, staining the rope crimson with her blood.  She couldn’t tie anymore, her fingers so numb they refused to move.  The words swelled in her throat, too painful to swallow back.  “How do you bear it?”

His head swiveled towards her, his mouth open in disbelief.  “I don’t, Katniss!  Obviously I don’t.  I drag myself out of nightmares and find there’s no relief in waking.”

Her eyes fill with tears again and she dropped the length of rope on her lap, squeezing her fingers together until the pain made her gasp.

“Better not to give into it,” he said woodenly, picking the rope up and handing it back to her.  “It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

She nodded, inhaling deeply.  Picking the rope up once more, she picked loose the knots she'd just tied.  Her fingers screamed but she ignored it.  Pain means that she’s still alive, and it’s penance as well, a hair shirt for her sins.

 

~*~

 

“We’ve got them!”

Shouts and bangs wake her from the exhausted doze she’d fallen into.  Blinking against the harsh light, she shaded her face with her hand, making out fuzzy details of men in black suits with holstered guns hoisting a body on a stretcher.

“Katniss!”

Gale’s voice broke through the cacophony, strident and sure.  He’s at her side a second later, blood dripping from a shallow cut on his forehead.

“What’s going on?”

“We got them out, Peeta and Johanna Mason.  They’re free, Katniss.”

Her stomach bottomed; hope swelling in her like a balloon, filling so rapidly that she could barely catch her breath.  She moved forward, pushing through the crush of bodies until she could see him, sitting up on a hospital gurney, surrounded by black suited soldiers and white coated doctors.  The machines beeped and hummed, adding to the rich symphony of noise that blanked to silence as his head turned, their eyes meeting.

“Peeta!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd as the words just poured out of me tonight. One chapter left and it's over and what a ride it's been.


	11. I don't want to be alone...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He was willing to give his life for mine, the very least I can do is to be there to help in whatever way I can to get him through this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end. I can't believe it's taken me so long to finish this story. Thank you to everyone that's stuck with me to the end.

“You need to die, you stupid bitch!  This is all your fault!”  His hands closed around her throat, fingers pressing into her windpipe, cutting off the airway.  “None of this would’ve happened if you didn’t exist!”

“Peeta!  No, you don’t mean it!”  Katniss gasped out the words, her hands prying at his rigid fingers, nails digging into his skin to no avail.  Strong hands pulled him away, his bony fingers releasing from around her neck.  His eyes were wild, mouth contorted as he screamed his rage.

She awoke with a gasp, hands rising to her throat as she sat up straight in the plush bed.  Blinking her eyes, she struggled to orient herself, the vestiges of the dream so potent that she could still feel his thumbs pressing down on her larynx.  The door to her room flew open, light flooding the room as Gale flipped the switch.

“Katniss?  Are you okay?”

She groped for the bedside table, nearly spilling the glass of water before curling her fingers around it and bringing it to her mouth.  Taking a sip, she squinted against the harsh lights, waving weakly at his taut form braced in the doorway.  “Nightmare,” she rasped and took another drink, trying to loosen the feel of pressure in her throat.  Setting the glass down, she leaned back against the pillows and sighed.  This room, this place, everything was conspiring against her.  As much as she hated being cooped up in this building, it was one of the few places that Peeta was safe.  Tucked into the backside of a mountain in an old mine, it was completely off the grid and damn near impregnable with one entrance that was hidden deep in the woods behind Haymitch’s house.  When Gale had first told her about it while he was bringing her out here, she’d thought he was nuts, but it had likely saved her life and Peeta’s, keeping them from Snow’s retribution until he could be brought to trial.

“Want to talk about it?

She took another deep breath.  “No, it won’t help.”

Gale leaned against the doorframe.  “Speaking from experience?”

Katniss laughed dryly, one corner of her mouth tugging up into a reluctant grin.  “Yeah.”

“You didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you?”

She shook her head.  “Of course not.  Nothing in my life is easy.”  She peeled back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.  “Why are you up?”

He shrugged.  “Couldn’t sleep.  Mason’ s pacing the halls, ranting about how unfair it is to keep her here and how she has to get back to work to nail the bastards who did this.  I was taking a walk to clear my head when I heard you scream.”

Katniss stood up and reached for her robe lying at the end of the bed, belting it tightly around her waist.  “At least she’s lucid now.”

Gale shrugged.  “At times.”  He stretched, rolling his shoulders and rotating his head around.  “I should go, security meeting.”

Katniss nodded, fingers absently playing with the tie of her robe. “Any progress on the trial date?”

Gale rolled his eyes.  “No,” he said shortly.  “They still can’t agree on anything other than Snow needs to disappear forever.”

“That’s progress then, last I heard they couldn’t even agree on that.”

Gale snorted.  “His hardliners rebelled at first, but when they found out they were going to be charged along with the rest of his cronies, they finally began towing the party line.”

“Paylor’s not going to let them off, is she?”

He scratched at his beard.  “Most of them, yeah.”  He raked a hand through his hair, tugging the too long strands lightly.  “There’s just not enough evidence to get them all.”

“That’s ridiculous; we have people that will testify – Madge, me…Peeta.”

“It is, but she got them to sign an agreement that they won’t ever work in any government capacity for the rest of their natural lives.”

“In exchange for what?  No way are they going to agree to that without some sort of compensation.”

“They get to keep their pensions.”

Katniss glowered.  “How very nice for them.”

“Lesser of two evils, I guess,” he said, yawning.  He glanced down at his watch.  “I’ll catch you later for lunch?”

Katniss nodded, walking across the small room to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer.  She began pulling out clothes.  No way was she going to be able to get any more sleep.  “I’m going to go spend the morning with Peeta, see if he’s made any progress.”

“Does he still try to kill you every time he sees you?”

She turned to glare at him.  “That’s not funny.”

He stepped further into the small room.  “I’m serious, Catnip. “  He tugged on his shirt.  “I never thought I’d see anything like it.  That man loved you enough to _die_ for you and Snow turned him into a monster, hell bent on your destruction at his hands.”  He shook his head.”  It’s freaky as fucking hell.  He’s like a completely different person, one that never loved you with something bordering on desperation.”

Katniss marched over to where he stood, pushing into his space and grabbing his shirt front, pulling him down.  “Snow tortured him, Gale,” she spat. “Beat him, burned him, did who knows what to him for no other reason than he could.  Frankly, I’m surprised he’s as sane as he is.”  She released his shirt and stepped back, nearly shaking with rage.

“Sane?” Gale sputtered incredulously eyes widening comically.  “He hasn’t been sane since he came back from overseas.  The war fucked him royally, all Snow did was nail the coffin shut.”

Katniss turned her back on him and walked over to the dresser, carefully gathering her clothing as she fought to not haul off and whack him a good one.  “You can go now Gale,” she said coldly.  “He was willing to give his life for mine, the very least I can do is to be there to help in whatever way I can to get him through this.”  She glanced back at him over her shoulder.  “You never understood Gale.  _I love him_.  I got married to Seneca to protect him and if necessary, I’d even die for him, the same way he tried to do for me.”  Her voice was ice, steel laced in every word.

Gale recoiled and shook his head.  “You’re wasting your time, Katniss.  He’s too damaged.   He’ll never be the man you were willing to throw your life away on again.”

“You’re wrong,” she said, brushing past him to head towards the bathroom.

 

~*~

 

“Mr. Mellark?”

Peeta shuddered and gripped the edges of the chair.  “Peeta…my name is Peeta,” he said roughly.  “Mr. Mellark was my father.”

“Of course, Peeta.  I apologize,” Dr. Aurelius said, his voice low and calm.  “Is there anything specific you would like to discuss today?”

Peeta stared at him silently.  _Does he ever crack that fucking calm and cool façade?_ A ghost of a smile tripped across his lips and he settled back into the overstuffed chair.  Just like everything else in this room, it was comfortable and calming.  From the pale peach walls to the soft, nubby beige carpeting on the floor, it was all designed to put a stamp of normalcy into his life.  Not that anything about this place was normal.  Hell, they were sitting in an abandoned mine shaft that had been converted into a bunker because of the paranoia of one of his former neighbors.  Granted that paranoia had been spot on, but still, the whole thing just stank of deceit and the shitstorm that he’d lived in for the last two years after coming back from the hellpit of war.  “Not particularly, Dr. Aurelius.  Why don’t you tell me what you want me to say so we can put an end to this farce.”

Dr. Aurelius pulled his spectacles loose and rubbed the lenses on his shirt as he studied Peeta.  “We’re here for you, Peeta.  I’ve told you repeatedly that this is a safe place for you to discuss what has happened to you.”

Peeta laughed mirthlessly.  “Please, at the very least, don’t patronize me.  My mother was far better at it than you will ever hope to be.  You have an agenda.  I may be insane but I’m not stupid.  You want me to testify against Snow and his cohorts, including my parents, but to do that I have to pass the psych eval from opposing counsel and there’s no way in hell you think I can without your expert guidance.”

“What makes you say you’re insane?”

Peeta shook his head, staring out the fake window.  They’d put a screen up that showed the outside so that it didn’t feel so closed in.  Spring had finally arrived, if the screen were to be believed.  Hell, for all he knew it was just there to make him feel comfortable.  If it really was spring outside, the trees and flowers in full bloom, that meant he’d lost months in here, locked in the nightmares that Snow’s torture had caused.  His gaze slid back to Dr. Aurelius.  The older man, with his grey streaked brown hair and watery blue eyes behind round spectacles that looked more like an affectation than something he really needed, had his pen poised over his notebook and was staring at Peeta with that strange expression that most of the staff had here – pity mixed with concern.  He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand.  “The irrational need to attack Katniss, the woman I would’ve given up everything for.”  Peeta leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.  “I went there to die for her,” he said lowly, voice cracking from the intensity of the emotion building behind his breastbone.  “I was prepared to die so that she could live and that fucking bastard warped me so badly that now I want to kill her every time I see her.”

Dr. Aurelius shifted slightly in his chair.  “Yet you still love her, would still give up your life for hers.”

“I don’t know!”  Peeta shouted, his hands clenching into fists as tears spilled down his cheeks.  “I don’t fucking know!”

Dr. Aurelius wrote something on his pad, the pen scratching softly across the page.  “You’re not insane Peeta.  You understand what was done to you and why you want to hurt her.”  He looked up at him over top of his glasses.  “You have the opportunity to get some closure in this by testifying against the man that tried to turn you into a monster.”

Peeta scoffed, angrily wiping at the tears still coursing down his face.  “I asked you not to patronize me, Doctor.  You’re not that naive to believe that Cornelius Snow will ever pay for his crimes.  He owns too many people; his reach is too deep, too entrenched.”

“No, I’m not naive, but him paying for his crimes was never in your control, Peeta.”  The doctor scooted forward on his chair.  “I’m talking about closure for you, for what he did to you, to what your family did to you.  Tell your story and let it go so that it can’t have the power to hurt you any longer.”

Peeta clenched the arms of the chair, nailbeds turning white as he dug into the fabric.  “How is that going to help?  Having my secrets out in the open for everyone to mock?” He spat bitterly.

“You can’t control what happens after, or people’s reactions, but you can control how the information gets out.  If you present it, under oath in the witness box, Snow’s team can only try to rebut it, but they won’t be able to suppress it.  For the first time in a long time, you’ll be in control and while they may try to discredit you, the truth is on your side.”

“Boggs tried to protect us and have me testify and he’s dead by Snow’s hand.  What makes you think he won’t do the same to me?  I can bury him with what I know.”

“Alma Coin was killed resisting arrest for her part in Mr. Boggs death, and everyone else involved is in custody.  Snow is in solitary; guarded by the most elite team Agent Mason could put together, each one’s loyalty beyond question because they’ve all been burned badly by Snow and his cronies.  They want him to burn as dearly as you do.”

“And once I testify, that’s it?  I go back and try to pick up the pieces of my life?”

Dr. Aurelius nodded, sitting back in his chair.  “With help from myself and the rest of the team here.  You won’t be alone, I can promise you that.”

“And Katniss?”

“That’s something you’ll have to work out with each other.  I can mediate, and provide you tools to help you deal with the flashbacks and the nightmares.  Your future is in your hands, Peeta.”

 

~*~

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Katniss turned to glare at Haymitch.  “Aren’t you the one that kept harping on me that he was willing to die for me?”

The older man shrugged.  “Just checking.”

“Yes, I want to do this.  This is the first time he’s asked to see me and I’m going to turn him down?”  She stalked across the room.  “For hell’s sake Haymitch!”

“Fine, don’t get your panties in a twist, Dr. Aurelius told me to ask, so I did.  Don’t jump down my throat girl.”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, you’re right.  I just… I just want…”

Haymitch snorted.  “I know girl, I know.  C’mon, he’s waiting for you.”

They walked together down the hall to the small room that Peeta had his sessions with Dr. Aurelius.  The amount of people in the bunker had significantly reduced as the trial had commenced two months ago, most of them going to protect the witnesses that would be testifying.  The cement floor of the hallway echoed with the clicking of their shoes, emphasizing the emptiness.  Katniss was glad to see the doctor was waiting for them in the hallway.

“Katniss, Haymitch, so glad you could make it.  Peeta is inside waiting for you.”

Haymitch stepped back.  “I’ll be out here, in case you need me,” he said grimly.

Katniss nodded, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants.  The last time she’d been in a room with Peeta, he’d been doing his level best to strangle her.  Dr. Aurelius’ hand landed gently on her forearm.  “He’s better.  Not all the way there yet, but he’s made amazing progress in the past month.”

She took a deep breath and reached for the handle, turning it slowly and pushing open the door.  Peeta was standing across the room, staring at the screen image of the bright summer sun dappling the verdant forest above them.

He turned at the sound of the door opening.  “You don’t have to close the door if you’re afraid,” he said softly as she hesitated in the doorway.

“I’m not afraid of you, Peeta,” Katniss said, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her.  She walked over to the chair and sat down lightly, perching on the edge of the seat. She drank him in.  He’d gained some weight back and while he didn’t look steady, he could at least walk once more.  After the bloody mess that Snow had left his leg, it was amazing that it was still attached, let alone using it.  Her heart was racing a million miles a minute and she wanted nothing more than to touch him, feel with her own two hands that it was the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago sitting across from her once more, his eyes steady and calm.

He waited for her to sit before walking over to the other chair, using his cane heavily.  He sat down and set the cane down on the floor.  “Thank you for coming.  I know it can’t have been easy after the last time.”  He sighed.  “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“What’s harder Peeta?” 

He met her gaze.  “I’m going home soon, back out into the real world.”  She nodded and he continued, picking at a thread on the chair arm.  “I still have a long road ahead of me, but Dr. Aurelius thinks that eventually I could have some sort of normal life.  It’s not going to be easy, but-”

“Are you saying goodbye?”  Her heart leapt to her throat and she bit back a sob, fingers clenching tightly together in her lap.

“What?  No!  God no, Katniss,” he said quickly, leaning forward.  “I just wanted to tell you, let you decide if you wanted to…be with me.”

The tears she’d held back began falling in earnest and she slid off the chair to kneel in front of him, clasping his hands with her own.  “Oh Peeta, I thought... I mean you sounded so formal.”

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb curving over her skin.  “You love me, real or not?” he asked, lifting her left hand in his and kissing the knot on her ring finger.

“Real,” she breathed, leaning up to press her lips to his.

 

 

~*~

 

The country was rebuilding.  President Paylor cleaned house and everyone associated with Snow was sent packing.  Snow was found hanging in his cell, a bloody rose stuffed in his mouth two hours before the jury came back with a guilty verdict. 

 

“Peeta!” Katniss called as she pushed open the door to Mellark’s Bakery and held it for the dark haired little girl that was dogging her heels.  “We’re here for lunch.”

“Daddy!” Peeta came out of the back, bending down to catch his daughter in his arms as she barreled forward, shouting for him.  He hugged her tightly before lifting her up so that he could kiss Katniss as she made her way back behind the counter.

“Just in time, the Stromboli is just about out of the oven,” he said, running his hand lightly over the taut curve of her stomach as he brushed a kiss to her cheek.

“Bolies!  I love bolies!”  Faith cried, pulling on Peeta’s shirt.

Katniss laughed and slid her arm around his waist as they walked through the double doors into the back.  “She was hoping that was what you were making, she’s been chattering about it nonstop since I picked her up from kindergarten.  She nodded to Lavinia as she walked by them to cover the counter while Peeta took his break to eat with his family.

“Of course I’d make bolies,” Peeta said, tickling Faith’s stomach.  “They’re your favorite, right?”

Faith beamed at him and he winked at Katniss.  “I’ve got cheese buns in the oven as well and a loaf of the raisin nut bread you wanted last night.”

“You’ll spoil me,” she said, leaning closer to kiss him.  Peeta shifted Faith to his other arm and pulled Katniss closer, the bulge of her belly pressing tightly against him as he gave her a long kiss.

“Ew, daddy!” Faith protested, pushing at his shoulder.  He pulled back and set her down on the floor.  She bustled over to the small bowl and rolling pin that he kept for her.

“Let me get her some dough,” Peeta murmured.

Katniss nodded and sat down at the chair he kept back her for her.  She watched as Peeta gave Faith a small lump of dough, flouring the board so that she could play baker.  Her stomach lurched gently and she rubbed at the spot, her lips curving as the baby pushed back against her fingers. 

Peeta looked up and met her eyes from across the room and her heart swelled with love and contentment.  They’d done it, made a life from the ashes of the old.  Her gaze drifted down to the double knot tattooed on her finger and she rubbed it lightly.  “Always.”


End file.
